Child in Red
by simplyleah
Summary: Kidnapped by the Volturi to be used as a weapon, Renesmee expects the worst. She expects to be tortured and used, miserable and lonely. But will she find the most unlikely thing in the most unthinkable place? Will she find love? Renesmee/Alec
1. Chapter 1

**NEW STORY! YAY! Second one this week, and it's only Tuesday. Wow, I rock. And this is a pretty good length for a first chapter. Enjoy!**

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><p>The trees whipped by me faster than you could imagine; every shade of green and brown was blurring around me as I ran through the woods. It was cold out, and the chilled wind burned my eyes, the cold air seeping into my bones and threatening to freeze me solid. It was in the negatives today—negative twelve, I think—and my feet were numb from the snow, raw from the ice and rocks, but I couldn't stop running.<p>

My pursuers were faster than I was—they were closing in quick, some in the trees above me, some coming close behind. It wasn't my fault, of course; I was trying, but I couldn't help being a half-blood, could I?

My lungs were beginning to burn; unlike them, I did need to breathe and, presently, my throat was aching for water, also unlike their undeniable thirst for blood. My head pounded, and I could taste blood in the back of my throat, dampness in my nose—I supposed that the dry air had caused my nose to bleed, but I was so frozen I couldn't even consider reaching up to check, even if I wouldn't pause in my run.

I could feel them getting closer, feel my resolve fading—why, if they were going to get me eventually, did I not stop running? I guess I couldn't fathom the idea of giving up when this was surely my last chance at surviving, because I had no doubt about what they would do to me.

We'd been running for years, my family and I, from the Volturi. When my other powers manifested, on my third birthday—really, I looked twelve, but if we're being technical here, it was my third birthday—they came for me. My dad told me what they were obviously planning on doing, although he didn't let them get close enough for him to read their minds: he said that they would take me, use me, make me one of them—one of the red-eyed, one of the cloaked; that's what I called them when I was little, and it stuck. They would make me kill people, people who were like that different part of me, people like how my mom used to be, people like my grandpa. Innocents. My uncle, Jasper, made me promise I wouldn't let that happen. He trained me. How to fight with my bare hands, how to run, how to save myself.

"Ness," he would say. "You promised me, remember? You know what to do, don't you, honey?"

And I did. He never said it out loud—never, because then my father would burn him to ashes—but I knew. He wanted me to kill myself. It sounds awful—I mean, especially to anyone who isn't exactly in my situation—but it's not. Because, like he always said, if I did what he wanted me to do—what I promised him I would do—nobody would die because of me. I knew there was nothing worse than having the death of an innocent on your conscience. I knew how it hurt my grandpa, Carlisle, all of those people he killed in his newborn days, and my dad, when he went through what mom called his "rough patch."

We moved every few months. I didn't go to school—we tried, once, last year, after I stopped growing, but it was too hard for me to deal with, leaving before I even adjusted. We always ran, bought a house somewhere random, somewhere secluded, barely ever leaving the house, and then we'd run again. My aunt Alice could sometimes see them coming—she can see the future, you know—but sometimes it slips past her, when they make quick decisions. Aro—he's one of them, one of the Volturi—always has someone hunting for us. It's usually Demitri, although his powers are entirely useless due to my mother's shield, which she jokes is forever stretched into the shape of our family.

And, despite knowing for years that, eventually, this would happen, I have to admit that I am terrified. I pumped my legs harder, but my entire body was numb now, my legs continuing to run but staying at a steady pace, making me unable to go faster—but also unable to slow. I can feel my heart breaking, tiny bits and pieces falling away with the thought of my family, how they've sacrificed so much to protect me, but I've still been caught. How could you let this happen? I think. How could you? Are you stupid?

I glanced upward. There are at least four in the trees above me, easily keeping up, not tiring at all—but of course; I'm the only one who can tire. My head was pounding even harder by this point, and I couldn't concentrate enough to use my powers, to do something to try and confuse them. My eyes were getting blurry, dried from the cold, from the wind. I could feel almost feel myself breaking down, feel the layers and layers of skin on my feet being torn off.

When the one behind me—whoever it was—finally pounced, tired of our little game, I was surprised. I fell forward, face-planting into the snow, the sudden lack of speed causing me to sink even further down, and slide downward. Whoever had me held me down, and I could barely even struggle. What was the point, really? I didn't have the strength to use my powers, let alone fight a full vampire. I was, truly, burnt out. I could hear the others jumping from the trees, coming from behind, to surround me. They seemed surprised at my lack of fight. I don't think they realize that I am, really, more human than I am vampire.

"Tie it up!" a booming voice shouts, startling me. His use of the word it—he called me it!—made me wince, and I was trembling as they tied my hands up behind me, tied my ankles together. "Be careful! Aro wants it to be in perfect condition." I couldn't stand the way that he talked about me as if I was some antique that they spent a lot of money on, and were afraid to ruin. I wasn't an it. I was a person. I ground my teeth together, my anger sending a flood of energy into me. I heard it before I realized I was doing it—the vampire who had spoken began to scream in agony. I turned my face to the side, saw him fall to the ground in pain. I gritted my teeth. I never liked to use that one. I felt like Jane, the young girl in the Volturi who inflicted pain similar to mine, although I didn't exactly need to look at the person—it was more . . . sensing the energy of their mind, the same way my dad can sift through a group of people's minds to locate a specific one. It's like a web, almost. And it wasn't just pain—I could create an illusion of any image, emotion, or scene in a person's mind. Uncle Jasper made me do it to him, once—the illusion of pain—while we were training. He said he needed to know what extent I could do it—how it would, really, feel. He said it was worse than anything you could imagine—worse than Jane's power, even. Grandpa Carlisle said it came from my ability, as a child, to do the same—but only with physical contact. But, when I was younger, I never really tried to project anything other than memories and thoughts and wants of my own. And then, at my birthday party, without realizing it, I projected a thought to my mom—who was, at the time, across the room from me. She was stunned. It was nothing bad, of course—I was thinking about this outfit I was hoping she'd got for me, and somewhat wishfully trying to pass on the idea to her; had she bought it, or not? Although it turned out to be more than wishful thinking. And then there was the shield—it was, obviously, something I inherited from my mother, but it was different. It was . . . physical. I could only conjure it mentally, but it was . . . solid. A force field, my uncle Emmett had called it—invisible, but powerful. Jacob, being the ridiculous werewolf he was, had been joking around, and accidently bumped into the cake. I tried to block it with my hands—my outfit was new and, of course, expensive—but, instead, it completely missed me, jumping to at least ten feet away . . . onto my grandmother. Awful for her, I know, but not as awful for me.

Somehow, the Volturi found out—apparently, my powers would prove to be even more useful than Jane's and her brother Alec's, and this intrigued Aro. (According to my father, everything intrigued Aro.)

Anyway, after I mentally attacked one of my attackers, the others all cursed and swore and pounced on me, until the one who'd been on my back, holding me down, pressed his ice-cold hand over my nose and mouth, effectively cutting off my air supply. Before I knew it, gray was spotting my vision, exploding everywhere in my line of sight, and, before long, everything went black.

When I finally come to, I'm somewhere entirely unrecognizable—it's pitch dark, quiet, and I feel numb to my very core. After a few minutes, I begin to panic—I'm honestly numb, and I can't feel, see, or hear anything. My chest tightens, and I can feel the panic blossoming to something even greater—something huge, that I can't begin to stop. I realize that it must be Alec, Jane's brother—he's numbing me, with his power. That must mean . . . I'm in Volterra? I remember Alec's face—well, vaguely—from when I was a baby, and he was not there in the woods, amidst my attackers. I wonder at how quickly we must have gotten here—or how long I'd been out—considering I was in Alaska last time I checked, and now I'm in Italy.

Slowly, the numbing sensation begins to fade, and I can feel the stinging pain of my raw feet, throbbing, and my soaked-through clothes, ruined by the snow. I still can't see, though, or hear—I can feel solid, stone floor underneath me, my still-burning lungs and throat, and every aching bone in my body. I start to reach out with my mind, to try and find any minds near me, any spots of energy, but just as I start to look, I start to feel the numbing sensation again, and I stop. I sag against the floor, and consider speaking—but then I realize that I wouldn't be able to hear myself talking, and that whatever I said wouldn't be the right thing to say.

My hands are still tied behind my back, and I can feel the coarse rope digging into my wrists, deeper and deeper every time I move.

Slowly, my vision starts to return—I force my eyes open as wide as I can as shapes begin to materialize around me, gradually, like images loading on an old computer screen. Three people, standing in front of me. Slowly, but surely, coming into focus—I gasp, when I realize it is Aro, and his brothers, Marcus and Caius, but I don't hear the sound. Aro looks unhappy, and Marcus looks disinterested, while Caius looks furious. Slowly, sounds find their way to my ears, too, and the room is almost completely silent, aside from low chatter coming from behind me, although I don't dare turn around. I grit my teeth.

"Silence!" Aro exclaims, his voice a low growl. The room quiets faster than you would think, and then Aro sighs, dramatically, and clucks his tongue. I glare. "I really do wish you had brought her back in better condition, Felix," he murmurs. It's as if the whole room is holding their breath, waiting for Felix, who I remember being large and muscular—similar to Emmett. I'm surprised I didn't recognize him in the woods. He was, surely, the one who had spoken, and whose mind I had plucked at.

"If only she hadn't fought—" Felix starts.

"—but of course she would," Caius cuts him off. "Vermin. Scum," he murmurs under his breath, and I'm surprised he doesn't spit on me. I sit up taller, and turn to look at Felix. I'm surprised to see the crowd gathered in the back of the room to witness this, and rapidly pick out the few people I recognize—Jane, Alec, Demitri, Renata, the wives—but find myself mostly amidst strangers.

"How is your little army, Felix?" I spit out, fuming.

"Fantastic," he replies, glaring just as fiercely as I am. "No thanks to your little mind tricks."

"Oh?" I say, cocking my head to the side. "I thought you'd like those." I send a wary look at Alec, but quickly send a quick burst of pain to Felix's mind. He nearly doubles over. I smile but, somewhere inside me, I'm being torn to pieces. I hate this. I can't wait until they lock me up somewhere, and I can cry.

Aro clears his throat, and I turn back to look at him. Now that I'm awake, I easily yank my hands out from the pathetic rope they used to tie them, and tear my ankles apart. I stand up, and try to conceal how badly my hands are shaking by wiping off stray leaves from my jeans, glaring at the many vampires who move to grab me.

"I'm not going anywhere," I snap. "So back away."

Aro smiles at me, looking pleased. "How are you, Renesmee, darling? You've caused quite the trouble for me the past few years."

"I'd hope so," I say, sending a sideways glance at Caius, who continues to mutter under his breath, too low for me to pick up on what he's saying.

"And my, how you've grown!" he exclaims, his eyes traveling hungrily up and down my figure. I resist the urge to slap him.

"I haven't," I tell him, "since last year."

"Ah. So they were right, then."

"Yes," I say, although he didn't ask. He knew they were right. I steel myself for what must happen next, forcing all feeling as far away as possible. I grit my teeth. "Now, Aro, as much as we both know you adore a good show, how about you and I have a little chat?"

"Of course, my dear," he says, cheerily. He looks thoroughly amused with himself.

"In private," I say, through my teeth.

"Ah. Of course." Aro looks around the room. "Alec, Felix, Demetri. Stay. Everyone else . . . please leave. Quietly." Aro turns to his brothers. "Our guest would like to speak to me, brothers," he says, as if they missed our entire conversation. I almost scoff at his use of the word "guest".

Caius scowls, but Marcus remains passive. They both turn around swiftly, their dark robes swishing as they disappear to a back room.

Soon, we are alone—well, aside from Alec, Felix, and Demetri—and Aro gestures for me to continue.

"I'd like to propose a deal," I say, although this deal is most certainly not one that I intend to keep. Aro looks even more amused, but nods. "I offer you access to my powers—"

"Yes?" Aro exclaims.

"—in exchange for my freedom," I finish.

Felix scoffs behind me, but Aro looks surprised. "And how, exactly, would that work?" Aro asks.

"When you need my powers for something, I help you. Otherwise, I am free to do—and go—as I please."

"Well, that is very generous of you," Aro says. "But I'm afraid I must decline. Unfortunately, my dear, I don't trust you to return."

I swallow, and feel my strength slipping through my fingers, my last bit of confidence shattered. "My family will come for me," I tell him. "As soon as they realize you have me, they will come."

Aro nods. "I'm sure."

"We've been preparing for this for four years," I say.

Aro nods again. He says nothing, but looks at me, calculating. "What to do, what to do . . ."

"Aro," I whisper, giving up the act. I feel tears forming in the back of my throat. I'm choking on them. "Please. Please don't do this to me." My voice cracks towards the end. The entire room is silent. "I couldn't . . . I couldn't stand it," I murmur. "Please, Aro."

I sink down to my knees, and the tears finally spill from my eyes, coming down my cheeks in torrents.

"Alec, take Renesmee to her room," Aro says. He doesn't even look at me.

Sobs tear from my chest. "Aro, please!" I scream. "Please!" He turns away, disappearing into the dark shadows in the back of my room. Cold hand grab the tops of my arms, and then all sensations disappear once again only this time, I'm grateful. To my disappointment, it doesn't last long, and I soon find myself in a large, cold room, sitting on a wrought iron bed with small metal flowers and dark red porcelain-looking

Alec is standing in front of the bed, expression blank, eyes shrouded in darkness. His skin is perfect—slightly olive-toned, yet somehow still porcelain-looking—and his hair is dark, wavy, falling across his forehead. He doesn't meet my gaze. I wipe at my tearstained cheeks, watching him. "There's food in the kitchen," he says, in a forced pleasant tone, and gestures to a kitchen area behind him. "And clothing in the closet. I'm not sure if it is your size, though—Aro had it purchased years ago, when this entire thing began. He'll send someone to buy more clothes, if you'd like. I assume that someone will be checking in periodically, and Aro won't stand for any misdemeanor, so I would—"

"Look at me," I say, quietly. Tears are still falling from my eyes steadily, but I don't care. I need someone, anyone, to look at me; not through me, not behind me, not over me. At me. Alec freezes, but doesn't turn. "Look at me," I say again, and, although I'd been hoping to sound strong, or forceful, my voice cracks.

He does. Warily, almost as if he is afraid of me. His cold expression slowly fades, replaced by one of guilt and remorse and regret. Suddenly, his blood-red eyes don't scare me the way that Aro's or Felix's do. "I'm so sorry," he says. That's all. And then the mask is back on, filled with hatred—either for himself or me or the guard or Aro, I don't know—and he quickly leaves the room, locking the door behind him, I'm sure.

I collapse onto the bed, sobs exploding from my chest. I bury my face into a pillow on the bed, and scream—I scream, and I scream, and I scream. My heart is breaking, and I am alone.

I try and picture my dad, but, for some reason, I can't draw up his face in my mind. I wonder if it's because I'm here, in this awful place, and I don't want him to be stuck here with me. I almost wish I could use my own powers on myself, get some false emotion, bring up some memories of me and my dad, or me and Jake, or me and mom . . . but I can't. And then I think of poor Uncle Jasper, who must feel like this all of the time, being an empath and all—I wonder if he always wishes he could manipulate his own emotions, and then I can't help but wonder why I never asked him.

After a while, I get up of the bed, and nearly cry again—my feet are red and bloody and raw. As a part-vampire, I do have somewhat accelerated healing, but not by much, and definitely not as helpful as the healing of the werewolves; injuries take maybe half the time of a regular human to heal, but that isn't much. And my skin, over time, has softened—it's barely any harder than that of a human now. I cringe with every step I take, but I walk over to the closet, and open the double doors. I pull open the drawers, and find a pair of thick socks that will hopefully make my feet hurt less, but everything else in the closet, like Alec says, definitely won't fit me. Sighing, I shut the closet doors, slip on the socks, and limp back over to the bed, where I strip to my underwear and bra and climb under the covers in the bed, waiting for sleep that I know won't come.

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><p><strong>Review, please! Reviews are very important for the first few chapters, because they usually determine whether or not I'll continue a story, or just pull the plug. So please review! Next chapter should be up next time I update all of my other fics, probably in the next two days. <strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I lied. I had this part finished, so I couldn't resist putting it up. I'm going on a trip starting this Sunday for ten days, which means MAYBE one update per stories that I'm currently working on, but probably not. So I'm thinking I get as much updated as I can before I leave, write a ton while I'm on vacation, and then update when I come back. Sound good?**

**And I forgot a disclaimer last chapter, so here goes it:**

**DISCLAIMER FOR ENTIRE STORY: I DO NOT OWN TWILIGHT, nor am I Stephanie Meyer. I do, however, own this story, my plot, and any original characters that come up throughout this story.**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Seven hours and forty nine minutes later, I haven't gotten any sleep, and the light coming from the window is practically nonexistent, meaning that it's night time. Nobody has come to the room yet—I <em>refuse<em> to think of it as my room—and I've begun to go insane thinking of my promise to Jasper, and what it means I have to do. At six thirty (at night) I finally force myself from the bed and into the kitchen, dragging the blanket from the bed with me. I wrap it tightly around myself and am pouring a glass of water when my eyes find a narrow, antique-looking bookcase in the back corner of the bedroom. I quickly make my way over, because this will be my one salvation in this terrible place. I scan the shelves eagerly—all classics, and poetry collections. More of my mother's scene than my own, but I'll take anything. I automatically drift towards the books of poetry—E.E. Cummings, T.S. Eliot, Rainer Maria Rilke . . . my favorites.

When I was younger—not much younger, about two years ago—my dad went through this poetry craze; he would come home with a new book of poetry collections just about every day, and he would read them to me before I went to sleep. And I mean hundreds and hundreds of poems and poets. But, of course, I had my favorites, and he had his—I have a soft spot for "In Time of Daffodils" and "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock", but have a ridiculous obsession with Rilke, especially "Remembrance", and "The Olive Trees."

When I was three, after we began moving around, every story my family had about the Volturi would come up at some point, and my mom's, of course, disturbed me the most. She always told me the same one: about when she went to save my dad in Volterra with Alice. She never told me about it when Dad was around—he practically had a mental breakdown whenever she brought it up, he feels so guilty—but whenever he wasn't, and I was in the mood, I'd ask her about it. The thing that really stuck with her about that day, she always told me, was the red. Red _everywhere_—it was St. Marcus day, and they were having this huge celebration in Volterra. _Every_one was wearing red, she told me. But she always told me about these two little girls, sisters, wearing their little red cloaks in the city, with their parents.

So when Dad and I read this poem, called _Child in Red, _by Rilke,I told mom about it as soon as he went out for his next book run. I brought the book to her, and she was nearly crying as she read it, it touched her that much. I didn't really think it was too great, until I showed it to my mom, and it made her cry like that. Well, anyway, it goes like this:

_Sometimes she walks through the village in her  
>little red dress<br>all absorbed in restraining herself,  
>and yet, despite herself, she seems to move<br>according to the rhythm of her life to come._

_She runs a bit, hesitates, stops,  
>half-turns around . . .<br>and, all while dreaming, shakes her head  
>for or against.<em>

_Then she dances a few steps  
>that she invents and forgets,<br>no doubt finding out that life  
>moves on too fast.<em>

_It's not so much that she steps out  
>of the small body enclosing her,<br>but that all she carries in herself  
>frolics and ferments.<em>

_It's this dress that she'll remember  
>later in a sweet surrender;<br>when her whole life is full of risks,  
>the little red dress will always seem right<em>

Mom always told me how that little girl always reminded her of me—the older of the two, she told me, and the little girl in the poem—in her bold red outfit, and how that always scared her; it was likely, she told me, that one day, those little girls would be killed by the Volturi. For my next birthday—my fourth birthday—she bought me this little red dress, with buttons on the sleeves and a tie in the front. I loved that dress but, soon, I grew out of it. And when I cried because it was too small, Mom said, "Later on, honey, when your _whole life_ is full of risks, that little red dress will _always_ seem right."

And when I asked her what that really meant, what Rilke could have meant, with tears in my eyes, because I didn't know for sure, she told me that the little red dress was my childhood—that no matter what I did, no matter what risks I would have to take, my childhood is what made me . . . well, me.

Anyway, I was thinking about that poem when I pulled that Rilke book off the shelf, but before I had the chance to look through the Table of Contents, someone knocked on the door. I drop the book in a panic, and dart for the door. But for some reason, I can't seem to open the door. Someone knocks again.

"Renesmee!" Oh no. It's _Alec. _Of course, it strikes me that if he is the one who they have decided will watch me—most likely due to his power—then he will be the one who finds me . . . dead. "Renesmee, open the door." My heart stops for a moment, and, for that moment, I find myself feeling sorry for this boy—this boy who looks barely older than I am, and who must have been forced into becoming what he is now, who'll be stuck like this forever—but then I realize, he probably wouldn't even care if he found me dead. He probably wouldn't even care if he was the one who had to mop up all of the blood, aside from the fact that he wouldn't think it was worth the time. What am I to them, anyways? _It. _

Slowly, I pull the door open a few inches, and find my face _this _far away from Alec's. We both shoot backwards, and, gladly, I manage to hold onto the blanket as I tumble onto the ground. I clumsily find my way to my feet, although I do wince at the protesting of my aching bones.

Alec doesn't meet my gaze. He steps into the room, leaving the door slightly open behind him. "Aro wishes to speak to you."

My eyes cloud with tears for a moment, but I quickly will them away. "No," I whisper. "I'm not coming."

Alec's eyebrows shoot up. "What?"

"I'm _not coming_," I repeat, this time with more force. "What does it matter, anyways? What more could he do to me?"

Alec laughs, without any trace of humor. "You really don't get it, do you?" He laughs again, rolling back on his heels. "Of course you don't. You're nothing but a spoiled little princess who doesn't know how to follow rules."

I glare at him, anger coursing through my veins. Looking straight at him, I send the harshest, cruelest illusion of pain I can possibly conjure, but . . . _he blocks it. _He meets my gaze then, challenging me to try again. I look away, walking back towards the kitchen area, picking up my glass of water. Alec follows me, wrinkling his nose at my choice.

"Didn't you see the—"

"The bottles of blood?" I ask him, flatly. "Yeah. I did."

Alec raises an eyebrow, sitting down on one of the bar stools. "Liked it that much, huh?"

I sigh, swirling the water around in the glass. "I'm a vegetarian," I say. "And I'm also human. I don't depend on it like a full vampire does. I only hunt once a month."

Alec's eyebrows shoot up again. I decide I like his eyebrows, dark and thick, but not bushy. Expressive eyebrows. "No kidding."

I grit my teeth. "Why are you still here? I already told you I wasn't going to come."

"See, Aro knew you'd say that," Alec says, putting his legs up on the counter, looking relaxed. "He told me to sit here as long as it takes."

"Well, why don't you go do something useful instead?" I snap, staring at his faded short lace-up leather boots on the countertop. "Like go buy me some clothes," I add, glancing down at what I can see of my chest over the top of the blanket.

Alec grins, leaning forward. "You don't have anything on under there?"

I scowl. "Shut up." Alec holds up his hands in mock surrender, but he's still smiling. "No, seriously. I need clothes."

Alec frowns. "Aro will send one of the girls to go shopping for you."

"Fantastic," I say, eyeing his not-so-adorable all-black outfit. "Hopefully I get an outfit as cute as yours," I add.

"Human," he says, without much conviction.

"_Vampire,_" I shoot back.

"Naive."

"Prisoner."

Alec clucks his tongue, looking out the window. "I hate to say it, but you're in deeper than I ever was."

I sigh. "I always have been, though, haven't I?"

Alec is quiet a moment. "You've changed quite a lot," he says, still looking out the window.

"That's what aging does to you."

"I'm not an idiot." He cuts a slow glance at me, before looking away again. "But that's not what I'm talking about."

I frown. "Then what are you talking about?"

Alec leans back, interlaces his fingers in his lap. "I was sent with one of the search parties the year before last," he says.

I bite my lip. "Yeah?"

He nods. "Your father almost caught me," he says. "But I did see you, once. You were out with your mother."

"What's your point, Alec?"

Alec stands and walks over to the bookshelf, picks up the copy of Rilke I dropped.

"You like Rilke?" He sounds surprised.

"Alec, you didn't—"

"I wouldn't have pegged you as a Rilke kind of girl," he continues, like he never heard me. "He's my favorite," he adds.

I sigh, but let whatever it was he was getting at before drop. For now. "Mine, too."

"What's your favorite?" he asks. I feel like this is some sort of test—like maybe, if I answer right, he would take back all of his wrong assumptions about me.

"_Child in Red_," I say. It's only after I say it that I wonder why I did—I'd never considered it my favorite before, but it did hold the most meaning for me.

Alec's eyebrows furrow. "Huh."

"What?" I exclaim. "What's wrong with _Child in Red_?"

"Nothing," he says, sounding shocked. "Nothing is."

"Then shut up," I say.

"I didn't _say _anything."

"Yeah, well, you were thinking something."

"Oh, get over it."

I point to the partially open door. "Get _out_."

He laughs. "Hey, angel, I really don't think—"

"Did you just call me _angel_?"

"Did I?" He grins, cockily.

I stare at him a moment, disbelieving. His quick mood shifts are starting to get on my nerves. "Get out."

Walking over to the door, Alec waves with two fingers. "It stays, angel."

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><p><strong>Reviews make me happy.<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Well I hope you all liked the last two chapters, and are loving Alec as much as I do. The last chapter-obviously-explains the title of this story. If you actually read the poem, I think you'll understand the relationship. I promise, it's REALLY IMPORTANT to the story. Hence the title. So if you kind of skimmed, pop on over to Chapter Two and read it. It's an awesome poem, too, so it shouldn't be too painful. I actually found the poem before I wrote this story, and the first thing that came to mind for me-well, one of-was the Volturi and Volterra on St. Marcus Day. Rilke is one of my favorite poets, as is E. E. Cummings and T.S. Elliot. Most of my story names come from poems (especially by those three poets), and I don't always say, so keep an eye out! Speaking of my other stories . . . if you like "Child in Red," definitely check out "Remembrance," "Leap of Fate," "In Time of Daffodils," and "Why Birds Fly South." Head on over to my profile when you're done with this chapter, alright?**

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

A few hours later, Demetri comes to my room, once again saying that Aro would like to speak to me. He's carrying four shopping bags and hands them to me, saying to come to the same room as yesterday in twenty minutes. He leaves before I can argue with him.

I dig through the bags, finding most of everything to be black, gray, and navy blue. There is one maroon t-shirt, and a few pairs of jeans . . . all my size. I pick out a navy blue sweatshirt, and a pair of jeans, and run into the bathroom to shower quickly.

After about ten minutes, I'm out of the shower and pulling on the sweatshirt. I put on a pair of black converse which I found in the fourth bag. In the bathroom, I saw that I looked terrible—I had deep circles under my eyes, my skin looked awful and white, and I think I am getting a pimple. I feel even worse than I look, though.

I finally force myself to leave, heading in the direction that I think is where we were yesterday, and, although it takes me a while, I find it eventually. My eyes were tearing the whole way—what was this about? What would they make me _do_? I come through the back door, and the room is loud with the chatter of at least one hundred vampires, all dressed in black cloaks, like the one I found in my room. Jane is, of course, nearby. She sees me immediately, and makes her way over, smirking.

Jane sneers at me. "You're pathetic, you know, threatening Aro in there like you did about your family coming here. Can you imagine?" She laughs, and tugs at one of my damp curls. "A petty coven of vampires that plays with the _humans_ destroying the _Volturi!_" she exclaims, scoffing. "Pathetic! I've come across more decomposing bodies more offensive than you are to our kind!" She must notice something, probably my tear-reddened eyes and laughs maniacally. "Oh, boo-hoo! Does the poor baby miss her family? How _pathetic _of you."

I don't even make an effort to stand up to her—my eyes were brimming with tears before she walked up to me, and now I don't have the energy to keep them from spilling over. All I can do is look away, and wipe my eyes before she can make fun of me again. What an awful girl. My heart squeezes painfully, and I wrap my arms around my chest. I'm going to pieces.

"_Jane!_" a booming, frightening voice comes. I look up, stunned to see Alec. I wipe my eyes again—how mortifying—and Jane's mouth puckers.

"Aw, Alec," she pouts, in a baby-sweet voice. "You wouldn't want to ruin my fun, would you, brother?"

"Yes, Jane. Yes, I would. Now, I would suggest that you back away from Renesmee right now and that you _stay away._" Alec's jaw twitches, and his eyes are burning with fury—my heart lifts for a moment, his small act of kindness making me feel a hundred pounds lighter.

Jane gasps. "Alec!"

Alec doesn't respond, just glares at her with such fury that I'm surprised she doesn't burst into flames. She meets his gaze steadily a moment longer, before huffing through her nose and stomping away. Alec looks in my direction . . . but not exactly _at _me.

"Thank you," I say, quietly, looking at him, earnestly.

Alec rubs the back of his neck, eyes still burning with silent vehemence. "You alright?" His tone is surprisingly soft and gentle, and my heart swells.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeve. "I . . . I'm fine. Thank you, Alec. Really."

His expression softens to match his tone, his eyes finally meeting mine, and he opens his mouth to say something else—but then Aro is walking up next to me, clapping his hand tightly on my shoulder. I can almost feel the bruise forming. Alec's eyes darken again, and he presses his lips together tightly.

"Alec," Aro says, pleasantly.

Alec nods at Aro, and meets my gaze once more before slowly making his way towards the other side of the room, where everyone else was beginning to gather. Aro walks to the center of the room, facing the rest of the guard. He gestures for me to come next to him. I blink back tears, but make my way to standing next to him, feeling the way that everyone is watching me, sizing me up, like I am a piece of meat, something for sale.

"As I'm sure you have all heard," Aro starts, grinning. "The Volturi has a new member, none other than the ever-famous Renesmee Cullen." The room erupts into whispers, but Aro continues on. "I hope you all will make her feel welcome. Now, I'm sure you are all wondering what this meeting was about." Aro reaches out, wraps a hand around my arm tightly. "We all, of course, are very curious about our new member's powers." He smiles again, slyly, and drops his hand. He claps twice, happily. "Now. Who would like to volunteer?"

The entire room is silent. Nobody speaks.

Aro's expression darkens. "I say again. Who would like to volunteer?"

Jane steps forward, sneering. "I would."

I search the sea of faces, and find Alec's gaze. He looks surprised that his sister volunteered, but he also looks worried. For me or for her, I wonder. He steps forward, too. "I, as well."

Aro smiles again, and claps. "Fantastic! Now, Renesmee—"

I stand straighter, and step away from him, sweeping my eyes around me, forming a shield around myself, quickly. "I won't," I say. "You can't make me."

Aro looks amused. He laughs. "Why, my dear, of course I can." He turns to face Jane. "Jane, darling, would you?"

Jane grins. "It would be my pleasure, Aro." She turns to look at me, beaming, and looks straight into my eyes.

"It won't—" I start, but I'm cut off by a burning pain in my mind, fierce and intense. I sink onto the floor, grabbing the sides of my head. My back arches, and I try to endure the pain without making a noise, not wanting to give them the pleasure. The shield fails around me, and the pain becomes stronger, pulsing at my temples, behind my eyes, everywhere. I shriek, unable to contain myself, and Jane bursts into laughter. The pain stops suddenly. I look at her, pulling myself up somewhat, breathing hard, and glare at her fiercely. Without thinking about it, I fling every sort of painful memory and thought and emotion I can conjure at her, and she screams now herself, falling onto the cold, stone floor.

"You—little—bitch!" she shrieks, eyes glassing over in pain. Everyone is silent, stunned. I pull myself up, onto my knees, and force the emotion even more forcefully, even stronger, and Jane seems to black out, collapsing on the floor.

I grit my teeth, standing up, breathing hard. I look straight at Aro, who almost winces. "Don't—_ever_—do—that—again," I pant, sending him a quick, sharp, needle of pain. Everyone looks surprised, watching me, including Alec.

And then, suddenly, someone claps behind me. It's Markus. "Fabulous!" he exclaims. "She's stunning, Aro!"

Aro shakes himself and smiles slightly. "She is, isn't she?"

I grit my teeth again, but don't say anything. Alec meets my gaze from across the way, looking shocked. His gaze lowers, and I try to follow it, but his eyes are still on me. I touch my face, above my lip, and find something sticky. My finger comes back painted in red, and I hurriedly back up towards the far end of the room, where I came in, but Aro wraps his hands around my wrist painfully.

"Now, Renesmee," he says, tone sarcastic. "What _are _you doing?"

"M-m-my—" I stutter, putting my hand over my nose.

"She's bleeding," Alec interrupts, voice lowered. Aro's hands fall from my wrist. Despite Alec's effort to be quiet, everyone in the room falls silent, and all gazes land on me. Oh, no. No, no, no . . . Alec grips my arms, but not painfully—not like Aro. "I'm taking her back to her room. We can continue this another time," he says. It's not a question. _Alec _is telling _Aro_ what he is doing. I'm surprised, but I've begun to feel dizzy; my head is spinning, and gray spots are dotting my vision. Aro looks surprised, but he nods, thoughtfully almost.

Alec pulls me towards him, against his cold, stone chest, and leaves the room quickly, pulling me along with him, although he's moving much faster than I'm able to. A minute or so later, I'm honestly on the verge of blacking out.

"Stop," I whisper. "Please. For a second." Alec stops quickly, not questioning it, and sets me down. I walk backwards until my back hits cold stone, and I sink down onto the floor. I notice that Alec isn't breathing—and I realize that it's because of _me. _It's freezing, and my teeth are beginning to chatter."I'm s-s-orry," I say, quietly. "Th-that's never h-h-happen-n-ned b-before. I d-don't—" I stop, pulling my knees to my chest and tucking my head between them, breathing sharply. I feel nauseas.

After another minute, I force myself to my feet. Alec reaches out, gently, and helps me, looking cautious, like he hadn't realized I was quite so breakable before now. He holds me against him, and runs quickly the rest of the way. When we reach my room, he unlocks the door, and walks straight to the bathroom, where he sets me down.

His eyes are pleading—he needs me to deal with my bleeding nose, and he feels bad about it. I can tell. It's that same look Uncle Jasper would give me when I was a little girl with no sense of boundary and I would launch myself into his lap, without thinking of his thirst for blood. He's gotten better, of course, after living with me in the house for seven years, but it's still that same look—the guiltily hungry one, the regretful one. Only when Alec gives me that look, I swear whatever is left of my heart breaks some more.

I smile apologetically at him, and he steps out, shutting the door behind him.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I'm surprised that it isn't even so much blood—red rings my nostrils, dried now, but that's all. I splash my face with cold water, and scrub my nose with a face cloth that I find in the bottom drawer. When I'm done, I lift up my sweatshirt; black and blue already spots my shoulder, where Aro grabbed me. I finger one gently, and wince. Next, I pull off one of my socks—my feet are bright red, covered in cashes and blisters, and rubbed raw. I sigh.

"Angel? You alright?" Alec's voice is tight.

I bite my lip. "Do you think you could get me some gauze?" I ask. I sit down on the toilet.

Alec is quiet a moment, then the door opens. He peaks his head in, looking worried. "Why do you need gauze?"

I smile. "You should be happy I was dressed when you came in here," I say. Alec smiles a little. "It's for my feet," I admit. I hold up my foot.

Alec winces at the sight. He steps into the bathroom. "How'd that happen?

"I—well, this is kind of embarrassing." My cheeks color. "I couldn't keep up with them, you know. When they came for me. And—well, this is kind of stupid—but I wasn't wearing shoes. And ice and rocks against your feet for about thirty minutes, running at top speed . . . well, it isn't so great."

The corner of Alec's lips twitch, but his eyes are tight. He gingerly takes my left foot into his hands, looking closely. "It should heal up soon," he tells me. "Does it hurt?"

I shoot him a look. "_Yes._"

Alec laughs. "I'll get you some gauze, alright? And some antibiotic ointment."

I study him for a moment. He meets my gaze, and I find myself getting lost in his dark violet eyes. He looks away first.

"Why don't you go out into the room? Sit on the bed, maybe? I'm sure you don't feel too well." He stands up. "I'll go get the gauze and ointment." He holds out his hand for me, and I notice something I hadn't noticed before: his fingers are long and knobby—adorable, like a twelve-year old boy's. I wonder what really happened to him and Jane; what Aro must have done to the two of them, when they were so young. As young as I am. When I slip my hand into his, he helps me up and leads me over to the bed. "I'll be right back," he tells me. "I'm sure we have a first aid kit somewhere." And, just like that, he disappears out the door, faster than my eyes can follow.

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><p><strong>Review, please! I love my reviewers, and if you review, I'll love you too. Also, on occasion, I offer sneak peaks to the first reviewer for a chapter, so you should definitely read my ANs if you want to catch those.**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, I'm on a roll. Sneak peak to first reviewer of this chapter.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

The next two weeks are uneventful. Nobody sends for me—I assume that Aro wants me to recuperate before presenting me to the entire Guard again—but Alec stops by whenever he has free time, which is a lot. He tells me that they have some of the Guard out looking for new vampires that threaten our secret, or nomads that are causing trouble, but that everyone else is on their toes, waiting in anticipation for "blood to be spilled" (his words, not mine).

I spend most of my time going through the books in the room. I finish the Rilke one in a few hours, and take a break from the poetry, finding a copy of _The Cider House Rules _stuck behind the bookshelf fixture, and tear through that in a matter of days.

"The ending sucks," Alec warns one night, finding me, head ducked over it, on the kitchen counter.

"Shut up," I tell him, biting my thumb nail. The romantic tension of Homer-Candy-Wally was really getting to me. "It's so good."

"I promise you, the ending's terrible."

"Shut up, Alec."

"I'm being honest here. It's awful. And isn't that inappropriate for you?"

I take a deep breath through my nose, and look up at him for the first time. "No, Alec. It's not inappropriate for me."

As soon as I'm done with that, I find myself picking up a tattered copy of _The Catcher in the Rye_, a first edition. My dad was obsessed with it, but he always said that I was too young to read it. He said I had "all the time in the world". Turns out he was wrong. My days are numbered. And I'm pretty sure we're in double-digits at this point.

"Holden's awful," Alec says one day, when he walks into the room to find me sitting on the bed, in sweats and a t-shirt, reading the book.

"If this is another lecture like the one with _The Cider House Rules, _turn around right now," I said, pointing in the direction of the door.

"You hated the ending of _The Cider House Rules_!" he exclaims. "You _threw _the book at me!"

"I don't care. I still loved the book. Get off my back, Alec."

He glares at me playfully, and I toss a pillow at him. He catches it before it can smack him the face.

"Ha," he said. "Back to _The Catcher in the Rye_—_no, _this is _not _a lecture. It's one of my favorites of all time. That right there"—he points—"is the best of modern literature."

I grin at him, waving the book in the air. "_Modern _literature? You do know that this book is sixty years old, right?"

Alec's eyebrows shoot up. "Huh. I hadn't realized."

I sit up, laughing. "No way. You're kidding, right?"

Alec sits down next to me on the bed, gently taking the book from my hands. "No, I'm not. I've been alive for almost seven hundred years, angel. Time is entirely different for me."

Believe it or not, I'm almost completely used to him calling me 'angel', even though it does still sound weird, in describing me.

"Seven hundred years?" I ask, shock coloring my tone. "What? I'm _eight _years old!"

Alec laughs. "I've been eighteen since 1354. It's gone by much faster than you'd think."

"Well, I'd _hope _so!"

He shakes his head good-naturedly. "Teenagers of the twenty-first century have no idea."

"Yeah?" I lie on my belly, and rest my head in my hands, watching him. "Enlighten me, grandpa."

Alec looks amused, but not in the cruel way that Aro always seems to be. "Grandpa?"

"Angel?"

Alec sighs. "Fine. Point taken." He lies back on the bed next to me, putting his hands under his head. "Something you need to understand is that things were very different then, on all counts. Humans were more aware of us, and there was a constant threat of proof of our existence leading to countless executions and hunts.

"The paranormal was a part of everyone's daily lives; people believed in mystical things, in witches and spells and in things coming back to get you. My village, in what is now northeastern Italy, tended to spout lies of paranormal activity, of things that did not happen, and, when our father died suddenly, the entire town's eyes were on me and my sister. They'd suspected us before; our mother had been the town's herbal doctor of sorts, and many didn't trust her medicines. She died when we were young, of an illness that swept through the village, but many still suspected Jane and I of being witches as well, although our father was a well-liked baker."

"Where were you when I had to take European History last year?" I interject, awed.

Alec sighs again. He looks at me sideways.

"Kidding," I say.

Alec shakes his head, but continues. "Soon, though, a boy in the village disappeared: we'd been friends once, before we both began to work, and never seemed to have much time to spend with one another like we used to. At first, most of everyone assumed he'd just run off, or gotten lost—but, when he didn't return for an entire week, and winter's first snow came along, the village was worried, and they didn't quite know who to blame.

"Odd things were always happening around Jane and I—sometimes, when Jane was with the other girls, helping prepare meals, or sewing clothes, unusual things would happen; the flames would duplicate in size when she merely considered tending it, and many girls who normally would never do such a thing, would poke themselves with their needles. And whenever I was in my father's bakery, things would break unexplainably, and a man once blacked out for no apparent reason. And these were such little things, but, of course, people only see what they want to see—and they saw that Jane was different, with her masculine attire and her reading, and that I was different, with my odd gift of growing things for the bakery, and the way the two of us kept to ourselves.

"And so the two of us were put on trial—we were accused of witchcraft, and killing the boy. The villagers voted, and it was final—Jane and I were sentenced to burning at the stake. But Aro found us, somehow, and turned us before we could be killed.

"The Volturi was different then as well, as you could assume. We worked hand-in-hand with the human nobility; we offered them protection, and they disposed of any humans who threatened to expose us. The system worked surprisingly well for hundreds of years, until the humans began to see that they could gain something from us—immortality. But, at the time, nobles were to keep their ears open for any gossip in the villages, whether of humans who could pose to have useful powers—those who were accused of 'witchcraft', like Jane and I—if turned, or of those who spoke of the 'red-eyed' ones."

I can't help but doubt his decision—why join the Volturi? But Alec meets my gaze, and laughs lightly, under his breath. "I know you," he says. "I know that look right there, angel." I shrug my shoulders, smiling sheepishly. "He did give us a choice, believe it or not. But back then, there really weren't many options. There weren't any larger covens like yours which with we could take refuge." He waits to see if I'll react, but I'm not offended; the way he says the word is respectfully, jealously. I feel bad for him.

"We had two choices: become nomads, the two of us, or join the Volturi," he says, when he sees my lack of reaction. He pauses. "I know you may not understand our decision, but being in the Guard was much more appealing than being alone for all of eternity. And, of course, it wasn't all my decision—Jane needed stability. She wasn't always like she is now, believe it or not. She was kind. We had a young cousin, William, whose mother died in childbirth, and Jane took care of him for three years—ever since she was thirteen. She adored him more than anything. But William's father, our cousin Thomas, wouldn't let her near him when he heard the town's gossip. Jane was heartbroken. And after we were changed, it became plainly obvious to her that we would never fall in love like she'd hoped, or have a child of her own. For Jane, this was the worst thing that could happen at the time. She's very different now. If I'd met the present Jane even five hundred years ago, I wouldn't know who she was."

We're both quiet. I can't help but think of my aunt Rose, who went through the same sort of shock when she was turned, although she hasn't exactly grown any less vain. I sit up, and pick a spot of lint off his black t-shirt. "Fuzz," I say, quietly. Alec meets my gaze, and his eyes are dark—not with hunger, but with half a millennium of sadness and loneliness. He's not happy here, and I know it just as well as he does. Alec sits up, and faces me.

His breath is cool on my face, and he smells fantastic. Like peppermint, almost. Like home. "Let me try something," I say, quietly, my heart pounding. "Don't move." Alec freezes, and he stops breathing. I lean forward, until our noses are almost touching. I pause a moment, waiting to see if he'll pull away. He knows what I'm about to do . . . but he doesn't move.

I put my hand on his chest, over his still heart, and move in closer. Our lips are almost brushing now. Alec reaches around me, curls his fingers into my ringlets with one hand, and wraps the other around my waist. Before I know it, his lips are on mine, and I'm falling on top of him, onto the towering mounds of pillows on my bed. It's slow, and gentle, but I can feel it somewhere deeper, way down inside me—that spark that everyone but my family says doesn't really exist, that everyone else always told me was a fantasy. I pull away. Alec's eyes are closed, and a half-smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

"Angel?" he says. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

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><p><strong>Short one, I know. <strong>**Which is why I'm offering the sneak peek. And even though it was short, you have to admit it was awesome. FIRST KISS, KIDS(: I'm hoping everyone doesn't think this is going too fast, romantically. I hate when, in fics, characters know each other for about a day, and then they tell each other "i love you". It makes me really, really angry. That's why I did the whole two-weeks thing. So it's been some time, at least. Two weeks is definitely enough time to start liking someone, you know?**

**For the SNEAK PEEK: it can't be one of those reviews that just say "Update," okay? I'm looking for two sentences minimum. And the sneak peek wont be wimpy. I'm promising at least a fourth of a scene, so probably around 100 words. It also won't be a sneak peek of Chapter Five-it'll be a sneak peek that is very sneaky, and from at least a few chapters after this one, alright? Get pumped.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Congrats to Lala. Love 110 for being the first reviewer for Chapter Four, and getting the sneak peek! YOU ROCK! This chapter is very emotionally intense, so you might need to meditate beforehand, or do some breathing exercises. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

I slowly climb off of Alec, and he sits up, watching me carefully, that smile still kind of there.

I swallow hard. Alec reaches out, runs his thumb over my lower lip. He leans closer. "If anyone finds out," he says quietly, his wonderful breath fanning across my face. "They'll kill me. You know that, angel?"

My hands are shaking. I tuck my hair behind my ears. It keeps on falling in front of my eyes. "I didn't—I'm so—"Alec stands quickly, putting some distance between us. He's frowning. His sudden mood change worries me. "Alec?"

He glances up at me, and begins to pace. "They'll kill you, too, angel. Maybe not for a hundred years, maybe not until they get what they can out of you, but they will. This can't happen again. You hear me?"

I curl my legs under me, and my lip quivers.

"Renesmee," he says, voice softer. It's only the third time he's called me by my name since I first got here. "I can't let them hurt you. This _can't _happen again."

I look away, and my nose tickles. My eyes fill with tears. I nod. Alec makes a choked sort of sound. "Angel?" he says. "Angel, don't cry. Please." He walks towards me, swipes his fingers under my eyes, catching my tears. He tilts my chin up, and his eyes are such a dark red they almost look mahogany—the color is no longer a symbol of death, not in his face. It's a warm color. It's a _part _of him. I love it. "Hey," he says. He smiles crookedly, but his eyes are tight, too, with sadness. He laces his fingers through mine. "It'll be alright. I'll get you out of here."

"But—"

Alec looks away. "Nothing's going to happen to you," he says, voice hard again. "I promise."

I sigh, and tighten my grip on his hand. "You can't promise that, Alec. They'll do whatever they want with me, and you know it." Alec opens his mouth, but I cut him off. "And you can't promise _me _that, Alec. Because if you get me out of here . . ." I swallow hard. "You're coming with me."

Alec turns to stare at me—his eyes so sad, so surprised. "Angel, I can't—"

"Alec," I say. "Yes, you can. And you _want _to. I can see it." I force a laugh. "And my dad always told me I wasn't observant."

I get up off the bed, and, hand shaking, gently push a wavy strand of hair from Alec's forehead. My heart stutters when his eyes meet mine, and his free hand reaches up to cup my cheek. I'm positive he can hear my heart quicken. "Do you like me, angel?" he whispers, leaning in close enough for me to feel his breath on my lips.

I swallow hard. "Y-yes." My voice is shaky and wavering, but when Alec's lips press to mine once more, I know he heard my honesty. "Do you like _me_?" I ask, pulling back a little.

Alec grins—happily, almost, for the first time since I've been here. He gently runs his fingers across my cheekbone, tucks a stray ringlet behind my ear. "What do you think, angel?" I smile at him, even though the feelings and thoughts running through my mind and up my arms and all the way down to my toes are something I can't even put a name to—something so wonderful and new I don't even know what it is.

"Yes," he says, finally. "I like you very much, Renesmee Cullen." But before I can respond, I hear a distant commotion from down the hall, and Alec's eyes become tight with worry. "Stay here, alright? Don't move from this spot. I'm going to go check out what's going on." He turns to leave, but seems to change his mind, walking back to me and pressing his lips to my forehead. He inhales deeply. "I'll be right back," he says, quietly, and leaves the room too quickly for my eyes to follow, and much too fast for me to respond.

X-X-X

For the next hour or so, the uproar in the hall doesn't get any quieter. If anything, it gets _louder_, which makes my stomach twist while I pace back and forth in my room waiting for him. I hadn't even meant to say what I did to him—I hadn't even realized I _liked _him until the words were coming out of my mouth, but now that they were there, floating around in the air around me, spinning in my mind, I can't help but realize just how honest I was: _I like Alec. I like a member of the _Volturi. It's just barely been two weeks, but I do. The thought is somewhat exhilarating, but I can't push back the part of me that keeps on telling me that, when I was a _baby _he tried to kill me.

_He tried to kill you, _that voice tells me, again and again. _He tried to kill you and everyone you love, and you _like _him? _But some other part of me can't help but rationalize the fact that my parents have taught me how awful these people—these _vampires_—are for the past three years of my life, and that if I'd gotten the chance, even a month ago, if I were to have run into Alec . . . I probably would have killed him, too.

When Alec finally returns, I can tell he isn't in a good mood—his jaw is set, and his eyes are almost black, whether with hunger or with anger I don't know—and I hesitantly pat the spot next to me on the bed. Alec slowly makes his way over, and collapses next to me.

"What happened?" I ask him, sitting down Indian style just behind his head. I lean over him. He's almost cradling his right arm to his body, and he seems stiff. "Hey? Are you okay, Alec?"

He grimaces, clutching his arm even tighter. "It was . . . a newbie," he explains. "An accident. The bastard tore off my arm."

I gasp. "Are you okay?"

He opens his eyes to look at me, and slowly wiggles his fingers. He winces, but forces a small smile. "It's healing. Don't worry about it."

I frown, and gently push up the sleeve of his black t-shirt. My eyes go wide—the skin is basically cut all the way through by a deep red, almost purple, gash, but I can see the skin stretching and splitting at the corners, slowly pulling itself back together. I tenderly push the sides of the skin together with my forefinger and thumb, and Alec chokes on a scream. "Oh my gosh, Alec, I'm so sorry, just let me—" But he groans in pain, and squeezes his eyes shut. My eyes flood with tears and, with my free hand, I start to run my fingers through his hair. He lets out a huge breath of air through his teeth, and squeezes his eyes even tighter shut. A tear falls from my eyes and into his hair, and I sniffle. "Oh, Alec, I'm so so sorry . . . I'm so sorry. It's almost . . ." The cut his nearly shut now, and I'm amazed by how quickly it healed. "Shh," I say, letting go of his shoulder, where the gash is almost nonexistent. I hesitate, but kiss him lightly on the forehead. "Shh," I say again, my lips still brushing his cold skin. I move so that I am sitting next to him now, and I cup his face with my hand. "You're alright," I whisper. "You're okay, Alec."

When his eyes open, I swear they look damp, although I know it isn't possible. "Thank you, Renesmee," he says, softly, in a voice still touched by pain. He covers my hand with his own, holding it to his face. "So . . . warm," he says, slowly. I smile, and wipe my tearing eyes with the sleeve of my free hand.

I laugh a small, choked laugh. "Yeah," I whisper. I touch the corner of his lips with the tip of my thumb, and his eyes drift shut.

"I would die all over again to stay in this moment forever," he breathes. "'To sleep,'" he quotes, "'perchance to dream.'" He takes a shaky breath, eyes slipping open. "'For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come?'" He stares at me with those eyes, and I swear that my last resolve, every reason I have to _not _let this happen drifts away, and when my lips brush his, all I know is the quick beating of my heart, and the silence of his.

X-X-X

The next day, Alec comes into the room earlier than he has ever before: five o'clock. I'm asleep, but the _pop _of the refrigerator door snaps me awake. I rub my eyes furiously, glance at the clock, and then slip out of bed, tip-toeing towards the kitchen. I find him standing in front of the fridge, staring at its contents blankly.

"Alec?" I whisper.

He jumps—and I mean _jumps—_and turns to face me. "Sorry. Sorry, I know it's early." He looks nervous.

"Are you okay?"

He shakes his head, looking worn out. If he weren't a vampire, I'd suggest going back to sleep. I hold out a hand to him, which he grasps, closing the fridge door. I lead him over to the bed, squeezing his hand. We both climb in, under the covers.

"What's wrong, Alec?" I ask, quietly, sitting up. I watch about a million emotions cross over his face, before he burrows into the pillows. I sigh, and rub his back, like my dad used to rub mine. "Come on. You can tell me. Whatever it is, you can say it."

He turns his face to look at me, but stays on his stomach. I keep on rubbing his back, watching his face, tight with stress. "I need to feed," he says, finally. "But I don't want to."

I bite my lip anxiously. "What? Alec, you need to drink. Especially—especially if we'll be around each other . . . you don't know how you'd feel if something ever happened." He's watching me seriously. I let out a breath. "I'm not trying to guilt you into it. I'm just . . . after my parents, I know what almost happened because of my dad being thirsty. You saw the overall aftermath when he came here." I can see the recognition in his eyes, and his face grows even tighter. "I said something wrong, didn't I?" Alec just burrows back into the pillows. My hands still on his back. "No, I said something right. It's not just the blood, is it?"

It takes a few more minutes of back-rubbing but, eventually, he turns back to face me. "I'm not a good person," is what he says. I watch his face. "I've done so many bad things, angel."

Suddenly, the nickname makes sense. He's not picking one me, or making fun. He's being serious. He's looking at me, and he's looking at himself, and that's what he's finding.

I touch his bottom lip with my thumb, and his eyes stay on mine. After a moment, I nod. "I know."

He shakes his head. "No, you don't. You think you know, but it's really so much worse."

I stare at him. "No, Alec. I _know. _You're forgetting that even though I do have a family, it is made up of vampires, vegetarian ones or not. My uncle was in the Civil War, and the Southern War. He _was _the Southern War, Alec. Do you know how many people they killed and turned? My dad went rampaging for at least ten years of his life, killing_hundreds _of people, and my mom calls it his "rough patch." Alec, I may not be an expert on bad things, but I've grown up surrounded by them."

He's shaking his head again, though. "I almost _killed you_, angel. You were a baby, and I almost killed you."

I nod. "I thought about that," I tell him, honestly. "But that's different." He opens his mouth to protest, but I press on. "It is. My aunt told me about that whole thing with the vampire babies, and you thought that I was one of them. My _dad _thought I was one of them, Alec, before he could read my mind. It's _different_. And even if it wasn't different, you _didn't kill me._ You didn't do it, Alec."

But he's still shaking his head.

"Look, Alec. We can spend the rest of our lives arguing about this, about what makes someone a good person, or a bad person, or if there's an in between, or the fact that you _almost _but _didn't _kill me. Personally, I'd really hope that we could just finish this now." I take a deep breath. "I know that those thoughts might always be there, somewhere in the back of your mind—and I know that the guilt never goes away, because everyone in my family still is coping with it every day. But it's manageable. It is. And I don't expect this to just disappear—these feelings, these doubts. But I'm willing to try and make this work, if you are."

He's watching me, silently, holding his breath. But he's not shaking his head.

"Are you?" I ask him.

He presses his lips to mine, softly but desperately. "Yes."

"Good," I say, seriously. "Because it would _really _suck if I said all of that for nothing." He smiles at me. "Now. What is this about not wanting to feed, Alec? You need to feed."

He takes a deep breath. "Everything you said is true," he says. "But I want to feel like I'm _worthy _of even trying. Does that make sense to you?" I nod. "Even if I never will be, I need to feel like I'm making an attempt at redeeming myself." He pauses. "Starting with stopping to feed on humans."

I bite my lip. "That's kind of hard to do, in here, Alec." It dawns on me, then. "You were going to take the bottles from the fridge, weren't you?" He nods, guiltily. "Do it," I tell him. "Just leave one or two, because I'm starting to feel crappy, and as much as I'll hate it, I'm going to need some of it." His eyebrows furrow, and I know he's going to argue. "No, seriously. I don't need it like _you_ do." I sigh. "Tell me it _is _from a blood bank, though."

"Yes," he says. "I promise. Voluntarily donated to the hospitals in Alaska, brought here by Felix's team."

Thinking of Alaska reminds me of my family, and I immediately sober up and turn away, lying on my side. I'm embarrassed by how quickly I get teary-eyed. Now Alec's rubbing my back, and I'm the one upset.

"Hey, angel," he whispers. "Come on. It'll be fine, remember? We'll get out of here. Together."

I nod, wiping my eyes. "Yeah. I remember." I bite my lip. "Has anyone heard from my family yet? Has anything happened?"

Now it's Alec's turn to sigh. "No, angel. Not that I've heard of."

"Just . . . keep me posted, okay?"

"Of course," he says. "Everything will be okay. I promise." He kisses me on the forehead.

"I know you do."

* * *

><p><strong>Wow! That was a really intense chapter, wasn't it? It was very stressful to write, I can tell you that. I LOVE DIALOGUE(: It's awesome. So Alec is self-doubting, which is very, very understandable, don't you think? He feels unworthy of Ness, and we all know we want him to prove himself. Very emotional!<strong>

**Hope you all liked it. This chapter was very important to story/character/plot development. **

**REVIEW!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Later in the day, Alec comes back to tell me that Aro has finally decided when I'll be forced to demonstrate again.

Tonight.

Alec's more worried than I am, I think. "I'll volunteer," he says. "Before Jane can," he adds. "I swear, I will."

I'm currently making a sandwich, and he's sitting at the counter, watching.

I shake my head, slicing a tomato. "Alec, I would think that Aro would have some sort of set plan at this point, wouldn't you? It's been weeks. He's probably already decided who's going to be 'volunteering' tonight." I put mustard on the bread, watching him over my shoulder.

He nods once. "Right. Then I'll use my power to protect you. It's as simple as that."

"No it's not, Alec," I say, taking the jalapeños out of the fridge, and the salami. "Because then they will think I'm immune to something I'm not, and they'll use it again, and you won't be there, or you won't be paying attention. And it'll hurt me." I tuck my hair behind my ears, pausing in my sandwich making to watch his face.

He's shaking his head. "How is it that you're smarter than I am? I'm definitely older than you are."

"I know you are, grandpa."

He rolls his eyes, before pointing at me accusingly. "Stop. You can't be funny anymore today, alright? This is serious, angel." He gets up from the bar stool, coming to stand in front of me. "This is the plan, okay? Just be quiet, and go with the flow, alright? Only speak to him if he asks you to, and don't give him attitude. We both know you have just as much . . . whatever it is teenagers these days call it as my sister does, even though it may not be as apparent."

"Sass," I say, decidedly, turning back to my sandwich. "And good plan."

"Thank you," he says, happily. "I thought so, too. But I'm not finished. Anyway, as I was saying, just be as out of the picture as you can be. No arguing, just do what he wants. Okay? And I won't use my power to stop anything he has people do to you. I'll just make it hurt . . . less. Watching Jane attack you last time nearly killed me, angel. I can't go through that again."

"Well, it nearly killed _me _to go through it last time, so no complaints here about that one." I put the cheese on, and then it's done. "Look at that," I say to him, not turning around. "It's a pretty gorgeous sandwich, if I do say so myself."

"Mmm," he says, and I bite my lip, listening to him walking over to me. He gently brushes my hair over my shoulder, and lowers his lips to my neck. "Pretty gorgeous, indeed."

I sigh happily. "I didn't know grandpa's got horny," I say, after a moment.

Alec snorts. "Always have to ruin the moment, don't you?"

"Nope," I say, turning to face him. I wrap my arms around his neck. "I _make _the moment."

"Oh," he breathes. I stand on my tiptoes, and he tilts his head down. Our lips are almost touching. "Is that right?"

Instead of responding, I press my lips to his. It's passionate but gentle, and every worry and thought leaves my mind in those moments.

I grin when we finally pull away. "I think so, grandpa."

He kisses me on the cheek. "You're so going to get it for that later."

I laugh. "I'm looking forward to that, babe."

"Ooh, _babe_ now, is it?" he exclaims, and I wink at him and grin largely. I pretend to bare my teeth, and make fangs out of my fingers. He explodes into laughter. "You're kind of a freak, Ness. You know that, right?"

"Ooh, _Ness _now, is it?"

He waggles his finger in my face. "Go eat your sandwich." I roll my eyes. "I have to get going, anyway. Felix and I have to go spread the word about the demonstration." He kisses my cheek, and turns for the door.

"Don't worry about tonight, Alec. Okay? It'll be fine. And you'll come get me and everything, right?"

He sighs loudly. "Eat your sandwich, Renesmee."

I laugh. "Have fun with Felix."

"Bite me." And with that, he waves, winks, and is off.

When Alec comes back later that night, he's more than worried—he's freaking out.

"I wish I at least had some idea of what he has planned, you know?" he says, pacing in front of my bed, where I'm sitting in my pajamas. Alec tugs at his hair. "Oh, god. What am I going to do? What is _he_ going to do?"

I bite my lip nervously, watching him pace, getting faster and faster, tugging at his hair harder and harder. "Alec. Please stop doing that."

"What?" he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air and stopping directly in front of me. "Stop _what?_"

"Pacing. It's making me nervous."

"You should be nervous!" he says, wide eyed. He resumes pacing. "Oh, god. We have no idea what he's going to do to you."

"Alec."

"What if—oh, god, Renesmee, we're screwed. _Marcus._"

I stare at him. "What about Marcus?"

"His power! He can . . ." Alec seems to choke on the words, his eyes wide and tortured.

"Sense relationships," I finish, watching him. "Shit."

Alec puts a hand to his forehead. "Oh, god. Shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit. _We're screwed, aren't we? Wait. No. I'll talk to him. That's what I'll do. Right? I can—"

"Take a deep breath, Alec. Come over here." I hold out a hand to him, heart pounding. He's right. We're screwed. He takes my hand and sits down next to me on the bed, pressing my fingers to his lips. I start to rub his back with my other hand. "We'll figure it out, okay? Now, you know Marcus, don't you? You've been with the Volturi long enough. So tell me—calmly, Al—how you think he'll react."

Alec closes his eyes, and moves my hand from his lips to his cheek, where he holds it. "He won't say anything in front of everyone, during the meeting. He'll be most likely to talk to Caius and Aro privately afterwards. But . . . I can try and catch him before he goes back to his chambers, speak to him alone." He takes a deep breath. "I . . . Did your parents ever tell you about Marcus and Didyme? And what Aro did?"

I think for a moment. "No, I don't think so."

Alec nods, thoughtfully. "Didyme was Aro's biological sister, and she and Marcus fell in love. This was after Aro and Marcus had formed the Volturi, and, of course, Aro had a master plan. Didyme coming back into the picture and Marcus having a mate was not a part of that plan, and when Marcus decided he wanted to leave the Volturi, Aro wouldn't have it. So he murdered Didyme, and had Chelsea manipulate Marcus into remaining loyal to the Volturi. Marcus still doesn't know that Aro killed her, although I'm sure he has an idea. He is no fool." Alec's watching my eyes.

"So you're going to play the empathy card."

Alec nods. "I'm going to try. Chelsea's power only strengthens or weakens what is already there—and she can't change the way a person feels about everything, just that one specific thing: loyalty. Marcus has always been loyal to the Volturi; he only had his doubts when Didyme came along. He still loves her. I think he'll feel some sort of . . . empathy to our situation, since he went through the same thing."

I nod, and squeeze Alec's upper arm. "That's terrible, what he did to Marcus."

Alec rubs his nose. "Which is why I don't have any doubt that the moment he finds out about us, he'll do the same. You are, essentially, Jane and that uncle of yours, Jasper, plus Renata combined, so he's more likely to take me out than he will be to take you. Something I'm counting on."

"_Alec_."

He shakes his head. "No, Ness. It's a statement of fact."

I pull away from him, and pull my knees to my chest. "I'm definitely freaking out now," I say, quietly.

Alec sighs and kisses my cheek before climbing off the bed. "I'll see you in there, alright? Promise me you'll follow the plan?"

I nod again. "Promise. Do _you _promise to follow the plan?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

Alec nods solemnly. "I promise. I won't do anything that could ultimately put you in jeopardy."

"Good. See you in there."

Alec's eyes look sad. He walks back over to me and kisses me—first my forehead, then my cheeks, then my chin, then my nose. "Be careful."

I smile a little. "I'll try. And I'll be careful with my sass."

Alec laughs softly, and finally kisses my lips. "Good."

And then he's gone.

I hurry to get dressed after he leaves, in a pair of jean shorts and a simple long-sleeved black t-shirt, since that seems like its neutral enough. I end up changing again, though, into a black sundress with little blue flowers. If they're going to torcher me, I may as well do it looking mildly attractive. Unfortunately, when they went and bought me clothes, they didn't buy me makeup, which sucks, since being inside for the past few weeks has left me looking extremely pale.

Demitri comes and gets me fifteen minutes or so later and, this time, walks me to the dungeon-like room. We walk in silence, and I'm starting to feel nauseous from the nerves. Aro is waiting for us just outside of the room, pale lips pulled up into a smile.

"Hello, my dear Renesmee. I hope that you have recovered from the last demonstration we had. My Alec tells me you're feeling much better."

I nod, meeting his gaze, trying to find some sort of clue as to what he's planning. There's nothing. "Yes, I'm feeling fine."

He smiles wider. "Fantastic." He takes my arm. I see that Demitri has gone inside the room, and now it's just us too. "You smell simply . . . delightful." I swallow hard, not responding. "I'll have you know that we received a letter today."

My eyes widen. "What?"

"Oh, yes. It was your grandfather, my old friend Carlisle." I let out a breath. "You see, it was the oddest thing. He didn't mention you at all." Aro's eyes are sparkling, and he's smiling as wide as I've ever seen him smile. "He actually has requested to visit with us for a while, take part in our politics. I haven't quite decided what to do with that. Do you have any ideas?"

"Don't let him come," I tell him. I don't need another person I care about to be stuck here, even though I'm sure that he's only coming to make sure I'm alright until my family comes up with some way to get me out.

"See, I was thinking you would say that. So I'm leaning towards letting him stay with us. Wouldn't that be fun? Two Cullens under my roof!"

I look away, restraining from arguing. I hear Alec's voice in my head. _Just be quiet, and go with the flow. _"Fun," I repeat.

Aro sighs loudly, happily. "Now that this is all settled, I'd love to get started, wouldn't you?" He smiles again. "Yes? Yes. Fantastic." And with that, he opens the door.

* * *

><p><strong>This chapter was mostly build up, but it's important! And the interactions between Alec and Renesmee are my favorite . . . I try to make them very real; my Ness has a ton of spunk and sarcasm, and is definitely stubborn, and I think these characteristics are very important to portray through dialogue. And we all know I love dialogue . . . (:<strong>

**I understand that there is some CONFUSION as to why Alec would be killed by the Aro/the Volturi. I hope that this chapter cleared some of that up. Aro killing Didyme-his SISTER-to prevent his plans from being changed definitely shows that if he is planning to use Renesmee for something, he'll be willing to dispose of Alec to deal with any chance of her being distracted or getting away. Any more questions, ask them in the review. If they are general enough, I will answer them in the A/N to the next chapter. **

**I will either get another chapter up tomorrow or Saturday, or there will not be an update until at least 6/14. I will be out of town and have limited internet access, so I will probably just be writing while I'm there, type it up when we come back, and then upload like crazy all that week. **

**REVIEW, PLEASE. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The room doesn't look much different than it did before—but, this time, the room is set up like a school auditorium; a stage, and seats for the "audience." The stage makes the room smaller, though, because Aro, Marcus, and Caius's chairs are behind it. The seats are full; the members of the Volturi are all there, the front rows filled with the most important people: Renata, Corin, Heidi, Demitri, Felix, Jane, Chelsea, and—of course—Alec. Alec is sitting between Demitri and Felix, looking unbearably stressed.

"I hope you like the new set up," Aro says cheerfully. "For better viewing purposes, you see. Now, just follow me up here . . ." He leads me up the stairs of the stage, where he has me stand in the center, in front of everyone. The room grows silent, and the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach triples. It's Alec that I'm drawn to, though. He looks pained, watching me up there. Felix and Demitri are sitting rim-rod straight, and Alec's hunched over, looking like he's trying to disappear.

"This is just lovely," Aro says, looking out into the crowd of about thirty vampires. "All of us together, in this room, to admire our darling Renesmee Cullen! Last time, of course, things didn't go as fantastically as we'd hoped, but . . . what can one do. Now, I'm sure you are all very curious as to what will be happening today! Tonight will be a night of . . . experiments of sorts, I think it is safe to say." Everyone is waiting for him to explain further but, after a pause, he turns to me. "Now, Renesmee, dear, let us start by having you tell us what, exactly, it is that you can do. We'd all love to hear it."

I look at him, wide-eyed. "Oh. Wow. Um, okay. Fine." I swallow hard, and face everyone. I move toward the edge of the stage, where I sit down, legs hanging down, hoping to feel less like I'm back in my Speech class at school. "Wow, this is awkward. Well, to be short and sweet, I'm an illusionist empath with a physical shield." I tuck my hair behind my ears. "I can project images, emotions, and thoughts, and my shield is . . ." I swallow. "I can block physical attacks."

"My, my," Aro says, clapping. "How fascinating. Does my friend Carlisle know where these powers came from?"

Suddenly, my grandfather is walking out from behind the stage, coming to stand on the stage by Aro, behind me. I stand up. "_Grandpa?_" I exclaim. He looks pained, staring at me, but nods in my direction, before facing Aro. His blonde hair is tousled, dark circles under his eyes. His tie is loose, the first two buttons of his shirt undone. He looks like a wreck.

"Yes," he says, and his voice is like music to my ears. "Her mother—as most of you know—has a mental shield, so this is another type of that, I suppose. And her father is a mind reader, so her power of projection most likely stems from that; it is, essentially, the opposite of that. Instead of receiving, she sends out."

Aro pretends to look thoughtful, although I'm sure he's heard all of this before. "So it is, fundamentally, the process of inheritance in genetics. Correct?"

"Fundamentally, yes, I suppose," my grandfather says, looking extremely out of place and uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Carlisle. That will be all."

My grandfather hesitates, looking at me, but then rushes off the stage and down the stairs, stopping to stand on the side, eyes trained on me.

"Now, Renesmee, I think we'd all love it if you could demonstrate your powers for us. First, I'd like it if you could stand right here." He points to the center of the stage. "Thank you. Now, please put up your shield." I do so, and he smiles. "It's up?" I nod. "Fantastic. Now, Felix, could you please come here." Felix stands up and walks up on the stage, standing about ten feet away from me. "Closer." Felix takes a few steps. "Closer." Again. "Closer." He seems to freeze in his tracks after another step.

"I can't," he says, looking surprised.

"Take a step back." He does. "Hold out a hand."

Felix does, and his hand hits the same wall. He shakes his head. "I can't."

"Wonderful. That's all, Felix." Felix goes back down the steps, and sits down at his seat. Aro turns to me again. "Drop it, please." I do. "Thank you. Now, illusions. Renesmee, dear, can you project to more than one person?"

I nod, slowly. "Yes. I've only done it with nine people, though."

"Lovely. Could you try projecting an image—not a painful one, I hope—to the first row down there?"

I nod again. "Yes." I take a deep breath, clench my fists, and project an image. It's of the meadow back in Washington, my favorite place on earth, in the springtime, when the flowers are in bloom. It's gorgeous. I pick some sounds, too—the wind in the trees, the birds, the bugs. I hold it for a minute or two, before letting it fall. The entire first row looks dazed. I smile.

Aro is grinning widely next to me. "Fantastic! Sulpicia, my darling wife, would you please tell me what it is you saw?"

Sulpicia is fair haired and pale and very, very pretty. "A meadow," she says, in a cheerful voice.

Everyone in the row nods.

I project it briefly to Aro, whose smile grows even wider. "Stunning," he whispers, when I let it drop. "Thank you, Renesmee. Now, an emotion. The second row, please."

I project the emotion of exhaustion, drowsiness. Everyone in the row seems to sag, eyelids drooping. I smile again, and let it drop. My parents and family loved that one, because they never could, truly, sleep, so it was an interesting sensation for most of them.

"Santiago," Aro calls. "What was that?"

Santiago is large, like Emmett and Felix, with darker skin. "I felt . . . tired, almost. Sleepy. It was . . . peculiar, sir."

"Oh, this is wonderful. Thank you. A sound, please. To the last row."

I project the sound carefully, because sounds are always the hardest—it's difficult to picture a sound without associating an image with it. I decide on a car horn honking, and when I project it, a few of the vampires jump.

"Afton!" Aro exclaims.

Afton smiles. "A car horn. Honking three times."

"Thank you, Afton." Aro smiles at me. "Now, my dear. A thought, to all three rows, and myself." He slips a piece of paper in my hand. It's nothing terrible—just a simple, _Hello, my name is Renesmee Carlie Cullen. _I project it easily, and everyone is silent. "Fascinating," Aro breathes. It's almost like reading something, isn't it? It just appears, in your mind. That's all. Everyone is dismissed." Most of the guard looks very confused, but everyone gets up to leave. Aro grasps my arm. "Not you. You come with me." He pulls me, rather roughly, down the makeshift stage stairs, where my grandfather is waiting. My grandfather doesn't hesitate to throw his arms around me, hug me to his chest, and kiss the crown of my head.

"_Grandpa_," I breathe, into his chest. This is the most I've felt at home in weeks, aside from the times I've been with Alec. My grandfather rests his chin on my head, and holds me there. Tears are streaming from my eyes before I know what to do with them.

"Let's not create a scene," Aro says. "Carlisle, please take her to the library. You have twenty minutes."

Grandpa takes my hand, and leads me out the door with the rest of the crowd. We hurry down the hall, and into what I assume is the library. "Are you okay?" he asks. "Have they harmed you in any way?" He lifts up my chin, studies both sides of my face.

I shake my head. "I'm fine, Grandpa. I swear." I wipe my tears. "Why . . . . how are you here?"

"Aro sent for me. He wanted to talk to me about you, and of course I came. I had to make sure you were alright. Your parents would have . . . well, I had to." He puts his hands on either side of my neck. "So you're fine? Everything's okay?"

I swallow and nod. "Where is everyone else? Is Dad freaking out? You'll tell him I love him, right? And I miss him? Jake is probably dying, too, isn't he? Oh, gosh. Just tell everyone I'm okay, and I love them and miss them."

Grandpa nods. "Yes, of course, Ness. Of course I will. So they're being nice to you? Aro says you have your own room and everything."

"Yeah, it's fine. Everyone's fine." _Alec. _"But Grandpa . . . can I tell you something? You can't tell Mom and Dad. They'd freak. And Aro can't know."

Grandpa looks confused but he takes my hands and shakes his head. "No. You can't tell me. You can't. Aro will want to read my mind before I leave, and I can't know anything that he can't find out about."

I nod, biting on my lip. "Yeah, okay. I guess."

"Ness," Grandpa whispers, brushing my hair back from my face. "Oh, Ness. You'll be okay, I hope. The whole family is here—not in Volterra, but in Santa Luce. It's less than an hour away, honey, and you know how fast us Cullens can drive."

I can't help but crack a smile. "Yeah, I know."

Grandpa leans over and kisses my forehead. "I feel like I'm saying goodbye, Ness, and I don't like it."

I shake my head. "Just don't say it, alright, Grandpa? Just say . . ."

"See you later," he says.

I nod, wiping my eyes again. "Right. See you later. Has it really already been twenty minutes?"

Grandpa nods, and pulls me to his chest. "Everything's going to be fine," he whispers. "We'll get you out, Ness. I promise."

"I know you will," I say, because I never had a doubt that they would.

Aro pops his head in then. "Time's up," he says. Grandpa and I jump apart. "Renesmee, please go to your room now."

"Wait," I say. "I just have a request. One."

Aro looks interested. "Yes?"

"Could I please get some fresh animal blood? I need to feed."

"In your refrigerator as of an hour ago, courtesy of our friend Carlisle."

I bite my lip and look at grandpa. "Thank you," I whisper.

My grandfather nods. "I love you, Ness," he whispers.

"I love you, too."

"Aro, it would be wonderful if you could possibly let my granddaughter go in the sun—she's beginning to look awfully pale."

"No sparkle?" Aro asks him, curiously.

"A slight glow."

"Then yes, of course. I'll arrange for it."

"And sunscreen," my grandfather adds.

"Sunscreen?"

"Yes. SPF 45, please."

"I'll arrange for it."

"Wonderful, Aro. Thank you."

"Renesmee, please go to your room now. I'll send your . . . _grandfather _to say goodbye before he leaves."

I nod, and share a look with my grandfather before turning away and leaving the room. The hallways are empty, and quiet. It's pretty cold, too, and the walk back to my room is long. When I finally get there, I slip into the room and throw myself onto my bed. I'm determined to stay awake until Alec comes. It takes about an hour of trying not to fall asleep, but he finally shows up, collapsing on the bed next to me. I turn my head to the side, looking at him.

"So?" I say. "How did it go? Did you talk to him?"

"Yes."

I sit up. "And? Are we in trouble?"

Alec sits up, too, and takes my hands in his. "We're fine. Marcus and I talked."

I look at him, disbelieving. "Honestly, Alec. Give me more to work on than that. We've been stressing about this all day long, and I _need _more than that to go off of."

Alec rubs his eyes. "We talked about it—Didyme, and you. He told me that Caius told him about Didyme years ago; he just hasn't gathered the means to go against Aro for it. He's not going to say anything about us to anyone, so we don't have to worry about that, but he said to hope that we can keep this a secret for as long as possible. And he said there have been rumors going around, about rebellion. I don't know if it is those ridiculous Vladimir and Stefan characters, or within the guard even; Marcus wouldn't say."

"So we're safe?" I whisper.

"For now, yes," Alec murmurs, squeezing my hands. He stands up, and goes to lock the door with the key that only he and Aro have in their possession. "Get changed for bed, alright?" he says.

"Something's bothering you," I say, sliding off the bed and stopping to stand in front of him. I put my hands on either side of his face. "Look at me," I say.

"That was the first thing you ever said to me," he whispers, looking distraught.

"I know," I say. "Look at me, Al. Come on. What is it? What's going on?"

"I'm just worried. It's fine, angel. Everything's fine." He kisses me on the forehead. "Get changed, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

I sigh. "Fine. Turn around, then." He does. I pull a t-shirt and boxers out of my closet, and get changed quickly. "I'm done!" Alec turns back around, watching me with those sad eyes. He pulls me to him, and kisses my shoulder.

"I like you better like this," he says. "In your pajamas. Felix and Demitri wouldn't stop talking about how 'hot' you looked in your dress tonight. Not that I disagree, of course—it's just different, for me, when I see you in your pajamas or sweatpants every day." He smiles a little. "You look gorgeous in them, anyways."

I just shake my head and smile. "Such a charmer, aren't you?" I kiss him on the cheek, and climb up onto my bed. Alec follows after, getting under the covers next to me. I lay my head on his chest, and he kisses me on the forehead. "This is the best," I say. Alec laughs quietly. "No, I'm serious. I think about the fact that Felix finally got me, and I'm not even mad at myself for being caught, because if I hadn't been brought here, I wouldn't have you."

Alec presses his cheek to the top of my head, and lets out a breath. "I'm going to get us out of here," he says. "I promise you, Renesmee. If it's the last thing I do, I'll get you out."

I sigh, and refrain from arguing like I usually do. If I do, I know the conversation will never end. Instead of responding, I take Alec's hand into my own and play with his fingers. After a moment, he laces his fingers through mine, and brings our joint hands to his lips.

"How did things go, with Carlisle? Everyone was surprised by him showing up."

I bite my lip and squeeze his hand. "I don't really know how I feel about him being here yet. He told me that everyone's here, in Tuscany—an hour away, in another town, but still. It's weird, that they're so close." I turn my head so I can look at him. "And—this probably seems weird—but I can't stop thinking about how, if I could talk to my mom and my aunts right now, the only thing I'd want to talk about would be you."

Alec grins at me, and kisses my forehead. "I never thought I'd have a girl who'd introduce me to her parents," he says.

"Oh, well, you should be pretty nervous about that."

He actually looks it. "What? _Really_?"

I laugh. "No. Well, actually, come to think of it, maybe. At least of meeting my dad. My mom . . . she'll just be happy I found someone." _Someone who's not _Jacob, I think, but I don't say that. There's a better time and place for that conversation.

"Really?"

"Really, really. I stopped growing last year—so I'll be like this forever. I am a vampire in that way. So I'm sure my family hoped I would fall for a vampire, especially my dad. I mean, of course he's grateful for me and my mom, and I know he loves me more than anything, but I also know that he thinks things would have been so much easier for everyone if he'd fallen in love with a vampire." Alec's watching me, eyes brimming with questions. "Well, they had a lot of problems, him and my mom. And my mom's pregnancy wasn't exactly the easiest thing. And . . . my life hasn't exactly _sucked _so far, but I never really had a childhood, you know? Even you, or Aro, or my dad—you all got to be kids before you turned. I never got that. And I think my dad understands that, and respects it, and loves me for it. But I also think that he blames himself for all of that, and that's not fair."

Alec looks sad. He kisses me softly on the lips. "I'm sorry, angel."

I frown. "What for?"

"Everything. I'm sure that if we hadn't been after you, it would've been at least a little bit easier for you."

I nod. "Thank you. I'm not going to deny that—it's probably true. We wouldn't have had to move that much, or be on the run. But that's not _your_ fault, and, honestly, it would have sucked anyways." Alec just hugs me tighter. "You know what I really want to do, when we get out of here?"

"No, angel. What?"

"Go to high school."

Alec shrugs. "I've never been."

"_What_? In six hundred years, you've never been to high school?" He shakes his head. I smile, laying my head on his chest. "Alright, then. We'll do it together."

"Alright," he says. "When we're out of here, and all of this is done, we'll go to high school."

I smile. "Sounds like a plan. So, I definitely am going to crash but, if you want, my grandfather brought fresh animal blood for me—it's in the fridge. Knock yourself out, alright?"

"Angel, I couldn't. He brought that for you, not me. You need it more."

I bite my lip, reaching up to trace the purplish circles under his eyes. "I don't think so, honey," I say, the endearment slipping on its own. "I'm worried about you. You still haven't fed. I know you haven't. And we both know what could happen if you don't feed soon. So please, Al. At least have one bottle?"

He sighs dramatically. "Fine. One bottle is all I'm promising right now. And you better not make me get out of this bed, angel." He hugs me closer, snuggling into my hair. "I'm enjoying this way too much. When you fall asleep, okay?"

I nod happily. "I think I can agree to that."

"Good. Go to sleep." He kisses my hair.

And so I did.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the delay. Things are pretty crazy, packing for camp and everything. Also, I am done with my application to study abroad! AH! Scariest thing of my entire life, basically. I'll let you all know how things go on that front. Anyway, I leave for camp on the 23rd-next Thursday-so (DONT KILL ME) but unfortunately, at camp, I will not have internet access. At all. Never. So . . . no updates until August fifth at least. I'm really sorry! It sucks, but it also means that I can take this summer to write all of my stories, and then when I come back I'll just type them up and upload like crazy. Hope you liked this chapter; expect another update before I leave. I love you all! REVIEW!<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

He wakes me up later, shaking my shoulder gently but quickly.

" . . . better tell me that you already told Aro your goodbyes," my favorite voice, Alec's voice, is whisper-yelling.

I shake myself out of sleep quickly; Alec is standing over me, next to the bed, and Carlisle is standing a few feet away. Both of them look stiff, unhappy. Alec looks worried. It's still dark in the room, aside from the lamp on my bedside table, so it must still be night.

"What's going on?" I exclaim, voice crackling with sleep. Alec puts a hand on my arm, squeezing gently.

"Everything's fine, angel," he whispers, eyes dark with either hunger or worry.

Knowing that, with Alec, he'd keep everything from me if he thought it would protect me, make me happier, I turn to my grandfather. "Grandpa?"

"I came to tell you I was leaving," he says to me. "And yes. I did already speak with Aro. Now, would someone like to explain to me what it is that is going on here?"

I bite on my lip, looking at Alec. Rubbing my eyes, I say, "It just . . . happened."

Carlisle's eyes are wide. "_What_ just happened? Renesmee, if you are saying that—"

I inhale sharply. "No! God, no, grandpa." Alec looks confused. I sigh. "Not that, grandpa. I meant . . . us." Alec takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. "That's what I wanted to talk about earlier."

My grandfather looks very, very confused. "You two? Together?"

Alec nods. "Yes, sir."

Carlisle sighs. "Poor Jacob," he says. He shakes his head, almost as if to rid himself of the thought. "Well, this is not what I had been expecting, my darling granddaughter, when I had accepted Aro's invitation."

I smile a little, squeezing Alec's hand tighter. "I think Alec and I can both say that this is not what we'd expected to happen, either."

Alec laughs, grinning widly, and seeming much more at ease. I lean into his arm, and he pulls me to his side, kissing the top of my head.

Albeit surprised, my grandfather definitely looks happy. "Well, this does complicate things," he says, oddly cheerful. "But, I hope I can assume that this means you'll be looking out for her?" he says to Alec.

Alec nods. "Yes, of course. I'd do anything for her."

My grandpa sighs, looking at me. "If you're anything like your mother, I think it's safe to say you won't be leaving here without him?"

I nod slowly. "Never." Alec hugs me tighter.

"Well then. I think it's also safe to say your father will be putting you in complete lockdown when you come home."

I laugh a little. "Yeah, I think it's safe to say that. So long as I can get Alec out of here with me, I don't care what Dad or Mom does to me."

Grandpa smiles. "I think that is something both of your parents can understand."

"Yeah, well I hope so."

Grandpa laughs. "Don't worry, Ness. Our biggest concern is getting you-both of you-out of here. Everything else can wait." I cross my fingers, holding them up for him to see. "I suppose we're on a sort of time restraint, now, aren't we? The entire family was rushing as it is, to figure out a way to get you out as soon as we could, but Aro can't find out about the two of you, can he?"

Alec shakes his head roughly, holding me even tighter. "No. He can't find out, under any circumstances. Especially not while we are here. It would put her in danger, and I won't stand for it."

My grandfather nods. His eyes are wide with worry, but his stance calm and casual.

Tears well in my eyes. "Grandpa," I murmur. I push back the covers, and brush a kiss on Alec's knuckles before letting go of his hand and sliding off the bed to throw my arms around my grandpa's neck.

He holds me tightly, as tight as he'd dare. "We're all just so worried," he whispers into my hair. "I was so scared, when I came . . . I didn't know what to expect, if you were even okay. And your parents, Esme . . . everyone is so scared for you, Nessie. When we first couldn't find you . . . That day was the worst day of our lives, I think, up there with the day your dad went to the Volturi. It was terrible. And then Aro called to tell us you were 'alive and functioning' and 'under their protection.' We flew to Italy on the first flight the next morning."

I swallow a sob. "I miss everyone so much," I say. "You'll tell them I'm fine, won't you? That I miss them and love them?" Grandpa nods, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "And when you tell Dad about Alec, you'll tell him that he's really important to me, right? That he makes me happy?"

"Yes, darling. Of course."

I sniffle, and take a step back from my grandpa. Alec comes up next to me, wraps his arms around my waist. I wipe my tears, feeling another sob building in my chest.

"You take care of her, alright?" Grandpa says to Alec, who nods furiously. "I love you, darling," he says to me. "And I love that you found someone who makes you happy, in spite of the circumstances. We'll get you out of here. I promise."

I let out a hard breath, and wipe my eyes again. "Yeah," I whisper. "I love you, too. Give Mom and Dad a kiss for me. Tell them not to worry too much."

Grandpa smiles wryly, looking heart broken. "I'll try. They're waiting for me, just outside of Volterra."

My heart aches, knowing my family is so close but so out of my reach. "And Jacob?"

"With everyone, waiting for me . . . Worrying about you."

"Tell him I'm really sorry," I murmur. "Please? Tell him I love him, and I wish it were in the way he deserves-but I just can't." I reach up behind me, laying my hands on Alec's shoulders, emphasizing my point. Alec squeezes my waist tighter, aligning me in front of him so my hips are just below his.

"I know you do," Carlisle whispers. "I'll tell him. I need to get going." he takes a step forward, brushes a kiss on my cheek. "I love you, Renesmee. Be careful."

I smile through my tears. "I'll try."

Carlisle lays a hand on Alec's shoulder, squeezing gently. "I know I'm not her father; but I am her grandfather. And if you hurt her . . ."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he says, looking horrified.

Carlisle nods. "And I'm going to trust you on that."

Alec nods, too, serious. "I'll protect her. You don't have to worry."

Carlisle smiles a little. "I won't make any promises." he kisses me on the forehead one last time, before stepping out the door.

I sag in Alec's arms, eyes filling again, a sob building in my chest. Alec turns me around and leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. "Everything is going to be okay," he whispers, cool breath fanning my cheeks. "I promise."

I shake my head slowly, wiping my eyes. "Everyone is making promises they have no way of keeping," I murmur. I press my face into his shirt, inhaling his familiar, masculine smell. I relax into him, and he squeezes me tight.

"No. Don't say that." I feel his lips in my hair. "Don't ever say that." He pulls back from me, lifting my chin with his fingers so I meet his gaze. "The worst way that this place gets to you," he whispers, "is when it makes you lose hope. I don't ever what to see that you've lost hope, Renesmee. It would break me."

I wrap my hands around his neck, twist my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. "No matter what happens," I whisper, looking into his eyes unwaveringly, "I'll always have hope for us. You have to know that, Alec."

A small smile graces Alec's lips. "Thank you, love." my heart skips a beat. _Love_. He just called me _love_. "I needed to hear that." He kisses my nose, and my eyes slip shut. For some reason, this kiss on my nose sends my heart racing faster than any of the longer, more heated kisses that we've shared. It's more intimate, somehow. Maybe it's because of how natural it seems; that he can call me love and kiss me on the nose in the same minute, and I'm not even surprised by it.

We stay like that, silent, my eyes closed, for another moment, and then Alec's fingers brush my temples, followed by a sweet kiss on my lips. He tucks a few curls behind my ears.

"Why don't you go to sleep, love?" he asks me. There it is again! _Love_. "We can talk more in the morning. Today has been a . . . very stressful day, to say the least. Don't you think?" I open my eyes. Alec is staring intently back at me, his eyes dark with realization, and something else I can't interpret. I nod once, and Alec squeezes my hand tightly, leading me back into bed.

When I wake up the next morning, Alec is still in bed next to me, the Rilke book resting on his stomach, his fingers folded in its pages, keeping his place. I reach up and lay my hand on his chest, near the collar of his black t-shirt.

He looks up at me, startled. I smile, yawning. "Hey," I whisper.

Alec smiles, picking up my hand and bringing it to his lips. "Good morning," he says. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty well," I say laying my head next to the Rilke book on his chest.

"Considering."

"Good," he says.

I run a finger along the seam of his shirt. "Were you here all night?"

Alec shakes his head. "Mostly, but I left around one this morning to see if Felix or Demitri had heard anything about the rebellion Marcus had brought up, and came back around three."

"And had they? Heard anything, I mean?"

Alec hesitates before nodding slowly. "A bit."

"And . . . ?"

"Well, the gist of if just is that no, it didn't begin within the guard. Its something that began in northern and western Europe, and that is just now starting to come up near us. Demitri was saying how most don't have a problem with the laws, nor do they mind having a sort of 'government.' It is how we come across that bothers most, and the way that Aro carries out. That is what sparked the rebellion, and it seems it has just started." Alec's eyes look faraway, resigned.

"Are you okay, honey?" I ask quietly. Alec refocused on me, runs a slow finger along my jawline.

"Yes, angel. I'm fine." Only he says this distractedly, and that only strengthens my concern. I let it slide for the time being, though, because I know this must not be something he wants to talk about. After a few minutes of silence, Alec says, "Angel?"

I tilt my head up to look at him. "Yeah?"

"Who is Jacob?" he asks me. He doesn't meet my gaze.

I sigh. "Oh. Jacob. Well, he's one of the shape shifters back home—one of them from the almost-fight." Alec is quiet, still looking away. I tuck my hair behind my ears. "There's this wolf thing, called imprinting. And Jacob imprinted on me when I was a baby."

Alec clears his throat. "And what is . . . imprinting?"

I bite my lip. I knew this was coming. I knew this conversation had to happen sometime. "It's a love-at-first-sight, soul mates thing."

Alec lets out a heavy breath. "Soul mates, huh?" he whispers. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand.

I take his hands in my own, squeezing tight. "Listen, honey. Listen to me. Jacob and my mom were best friends when they were in high school, and he was there when I was born. It just happened. So I grew up with him there, loving me, like family. I didn't know about the imprinting until I was five, when we all sat down and had this whole 'family discussion.'" I squeeze his hands again. His eyes are closed now. "They told me everything, and that I didn't need to feel obligated to be in a romantic relationship with him. That's not how it works. We've never—at least on my end—had any sort of romantic feelings for each other. Our relationship has always been super platonic. He's like my older brother-slash-best friend. I love him, but I'm not _in _love with him."

We're both quiet.

Finally, I can't take it anymore. "Alec, honey? Please say something? Please."

Alec sighs, and his eyes open. "I don't really know what to say, Renesmee. I feel like . . . I have competition. Like I'm going to lose you to him."

"Alec! That would never happen. Never. What I told my grandpa to tell him—that was the truth. I wish I did love him that way, for his sake. But I'm happy, Alec. In spite of everything, I am happy here." I study his eyes, placing a hand on his cheek. "I have _you._"

Alec nods. "I'm sorry. I just . . . You're the most important thing to me, Renesmee. I don't know what I would do without you."

I let out a happy sigh. "Good. Because I feel the same way."

"Thank god," he says, and we smile. Hand in hand, together.

* * *

><p><strong>Yay! Happy ending . . . for now. (: Mwahahahahha. I thought I'd be nice and NOT leave you with a cliffie since, sadly, this will be my update until August fourth at least. I warned you in the last chapter! I'm super sorry, but no internet access for six weeks = no updates for six weeks. I love you all, and I hope you enjoyed. This is the last uneventful chapter for a while, so get pumped. Read my other stories while you're waiting(: AND REVIEW!<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**I know I suck for not updating. I haven't really updated any of my stories, and I don't know why. I need to get back in the groove of things . . . I'm studying abroad in Italy for six months starting in January, so that's kind of kept me occupied, understandably so. Hope you enjoy this one; the next one will be up soon!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

Time passes. Minutes. Hours. Days.

After a week, Alec takes a break from his search for information on the rebellion. I don't see Aro once, and neither does he. We don't hear any news about my family. Everything is quiet, and we fall into a pattern. During the day, Alec is on "guard duty," so he's with me for the most part. Most nights, he's out with the other core members of the guard, roaming the streets of the Volterra. Doing "business." I don't ask him what the "business" is, and he doesn't tell me. I don't think I want to know.

Another week comes and goes, and I'm shocked by the sense of familiarity I've developed with my room. I'm only allowed out to walk the halls under the close supervision of whoever's guarding my door. I've never seen anything past the conference room. Not Alec's own bedroom, not their offices. Nothing. I'm not "permitted."

It's towards the middle of the third week that Alec really starts to get antsy.

"I just think we should have heard from your grandfather by this point," he says, sitting on the kitchen counter. "The longer you're here, the more danger you're in. Where did he say they were staying? Maybe I can—"

"Santa Luce," I tell him, pulling open my snack drawer, newly stocked with my favorite junk foods. I take out the Funyuns, specially ordered from the U.S. "And no. You're not going to hunt them down. For all we know, Aro might have someone on your back every time you go out at night. I don't want us to be caught, and I don't want my family to be found. It's too big of a risk."

Alec slides off the counter and begins to pace.

"Stop it," I say, around a Funyun. "You _know _it freaks me out when you do that. Stress overload. You're killing me, Alec."

He groans. "_This _is killing me, angel. I _need _to have some sort of plan, some sort of just-in-case, and the fact that I don't right now is driving me insane."

"Love," I start, "there's nothing we can do. We are _stuck. _I can't even walk through that door," I point, "without someone watching me. I have bars on my window. I can't even _open _my window." I pull my hair back. "The most annoying thing is that we don't even know why he wanted me in the first place. I mean, sure, I have all of these powers—but they're not super helpful or anything. I mean, I haven't used any of them since I've been here. Not once. Aside from the demonstration, you know. It just seems stupid. He's been after me for _years_, and now, when he has me, he doesn't _do _anything with me."

Alec nods slowly, coming to lean on the counter next to me. "It is strange. Most of the guard is wondering the same thing. Nobody understands the point of it either."

I just shake my head. "It's just stupid. I mean, I'm not _complaining. _I'd pick spending my days here with you instead of terrorizing innocents with Aro any day. But still. It's _weird._"

"Gah."

"What?"

"We need a plan, angel. A solution. And quick, before it's too late. People are talking already, about me being _too _nice to you. They wonder why you look perfectly fine when you roam the halls; no bruises, no cuts. No one is saying anything to me, for obvious reasons, but Felix and Demitri are passing the gossips on. If we don't get out soon, Ness, we might need to tell them. Tell _someone._ They're even starting to question me, and that's not a good sign. Maybe . . . maybe if we get someone on our side, we'll have a better chance. Someone who isn't Marcus, that is."

"I don't know, Alec," I say. I pour myself a glass of blood—animal, of course. Aro's been having it brought in for me. Alec's gotten more comfortable with me drinking it in front of him, and more acquired to the taste himself. He's still in an awkward transition period, having some of both, but he's getting there and his eyes are getting lighter. I hold my glass up to him as a question, but he shakes his head no. Taking a sip, I finish, "It's too risky. I know you've known them for centuries, but . . . do you really want to trust anyone else?"

Alec sighs deeply. "I don't know. Ah. Let's stop, now. I've stressed enough for one day."

I laugh lightly. "Sounds good to me." I set my glass back on the counter, and Alec raises an eyebrow suggestively at me, and then tilts his head in the direction of the bed. I laugh louder and jump him, wrapping my legs tightly around his waist and my arms around his neck. His hands snake over my hips to rest on the small of my back.

"You know what sounds good to me?" Alec says, kissing my shoulder, then my collarbone, the crook of my neck . . .

"No," I breathe. "What?"

He doesn't bother with an answer, just grasps my lower lip between his and presses me closer to him, our bodies melding into one another. Time slips us by, and soon the rest of the day is gone. He kisses me goodnight before heading out. I finally allow myself to worry, let in all of the questions and ideas and suggestions and voices that I'd been suppressing since our conversation earlier.

The biggest thing, the biggest problem, swims around all of the others until it's front and center, waiting for me to give it attention. _How much time do you have left? _it asks me. This is our biggest issue, I think to myself. If we just had an idea of when Aro was planning something, or when people would _really _start getting curious about Alec and I . . . I wouldn't be as worried. I'm still in bed, thinking about this, when a hesitant knock comes to the door. Once. Twice. Three times.

I gather the sheets around me, only half-dressed (courtesy of Alec), and say, "Come in!"

And in walks Marcus, one of the three key men of the Volturi Guard. "Where is Alec?" he whispers urgently, scarlet eyes wide, hands shaking. Not only is _Marcus standing in my bedroom_, but he also seems on the verge of some sort of mental breakdown.

I shrug slowly through my surprise. "I have no idea. He left about . . . twenty minutes ago? He said he had some sort of obligation."

Marcus shakes his head, clearly bothered by this fact. "I think he knows," he whispers. His eyes widen even more, if possible.

I shake my head, stomach churning. Heart racing. "No, he can't," I whisper back. "He can't. Who would have told him?"

"Jane. Jane. If he doesn't know already, he will know soon. _Where is Alec?_"

I swallow hard. "I don't know! Where is Jane? Maybe you can find her. Maybe I can find her. Stop her." I re-latch my bra with one hand under my t-shirt, hoping Marcus doesn't notice. "What will he do if he knows? Will he pretend like he doesn't? Or—"

Marcus just shakes his head, eyes bright with something like sympathy. "I will try and find her and Alec. Hopefully before he knows." He turns to the door, and then says, back to me, "Put on clothes, please. Expect another visit."

After he's gone, I do what he said: I get dressed, and I wait. I wait. And wait. And wait. But the person who finally comes to my room is _not _the person I was expecting. Not at all. It's _Felix._

"Marcus sent me," he says.

I stand up, hands shaking and eyes wide. "What did he tell you? What did he say?"

"He told me to tell you that he found who he was looking for and everything's fine." Even as he says this, he looks confused. "And why would Marcus, of the Volturi, want me to tell our prisoner this? That I have no idea. _Non capisco._"

I shake my head quickly. "It's nothing," I say. "It's . . . it's not a big deal. Don't worry about it."

Felix sucks in a breath, pushing out his chest like a little boy. "I'm not worried."

Alec bursts through the door at that moment with so much force that it flies all the way in and hits the wall, leaving a sizeable dent. "Renesmee!" he exclaims, eyes tight with worry and relief. "What happened?" he asks, looking between Felix and me.

Felix shrugs. He points at me, and presses, "_Non lo so. Nessuno mi dice niente!_"

Alec lets out a low, relieved laugh. "_Mi dispiace_," he answers, his wonderful accent flowing over me. I want to hug him, kiss him, tell him how worried I was. But I can't, not with Felix here. "_Vai, vai! Non avete bisogno qui._" He shoos Felix out the door, smiling slightly. I've never seen him so at home with himself as when he speaks in Italian. He looks at me the moment the door shuts. "_Ma sono bisogno di te_," he says to me in a quiet voice, reaching out for me tenderly. He presses his lips to my forehead, and I relish in the feeling of closeness. "What happened?" he asks, interrupting the moment.

I sigh and take a step away from him. "Marcus came into the room, and he was _freaking _out. He said that Aro knew, and that if he didnt Jane was about to tell him. How does Jane know? Why would she tell Aro? Doesn't she know th-that—" I stutter and cut myself off, looking away. "That he'll hurt you," I say. "Doesn't she have a heart at all?"

Alec takes a deep breath, the hurt clear in his eyes. "I don't know, angel. I just don't know. I suppose I should . . . find her."

I nod stifly, biting my lip. "Before she _does _tell him."

Alec sighs, pressing his fingers to his temples. "I suppose I should go now, shouldn't I?"

I nod again. "Yeah, you should."

He shuts his eyes, reaching over blindly to snake an arm around my waist and pull me to him. He inhales deeply, and a small, gratefull smile graces his lips. "I wish I didn't need to leave you here alone," he whispers. "I worry so much."

I hold my fingers along his jaw. "I know you do," I say, and he nods slowly. His eyes slip open, and I'm surprised by how light they are—more brown than ever. He kisses me gently, softly. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Please be careful, love, and try to stay awake."

I do try, and he is back soon. He tells me he found Jane, and she didn't seem to know anything; Marcus must've freaked out for nothing. He stays with me for the entire night, his arm wrapped tight around me. I've never felt safer.

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><p><strong>Speaking of Italy: as soon as I get there, I'll definitely start writing more scenes inspired by Italian culture, so hopefully that'll get me going. Assuming Ness and Alec ever get out, of course . . . Mwahaha. Review, even if it's just to yell at me for not updating!<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**Hope that was a fast enough update. I'm going to start just updating as I go now, to keep the story moving.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten<strong>

The next week is excruciating—nobody comes into the room, including Alec. He stops by once, telling me that they've found a nomad going around and killing humans somewhere in northern Italy, and that he'll be gone for a few days, probably five—Aro is forcing him to help with the "search party"—but also that Aro let it slip that they will, of course, be keeping me under surveillance. Not of the technical sort, of course, but by having Felix be on periodic babysitting duty because he "won't be needing me" for a while.

"I wouldn't be leaving," he told me, "if I thought you were in any danger. Marcus has even calmed down. He thinks we'll be fine for at least a few more weeks." He tucked an unruly curl behind my ear, and brushed my chin with the tips of his fingers. "You'll be fine." He looked away, and I swear he would've been blushing if he were human. "And I kind of . . ." He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with his right hand, his shirt rising to reveal an inch of his toned, porcelain stomach.

I bit my lip to cover a grin. "What did you do?"

He scrunched his nose up in an adorable way, and my heart soared. "Believe it or not, Renesmee," he said. "But Felix is my cousin."

My eyebrows shot up. "_What?_" I exclaimed.

He smiled sheepishly. "It was an accident, of course. Do you remember our cousin Thomas, William's father? The one I told you about?" I nodded. "Felix was Thomas's brother. Jane went to visit our village—she hid, of course—to see William, to make sure he was alright, and he was . . . but Jane hadn't fed, and, well . . . Felix." I couldn't help but laugh. "It was quick," he said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "But he's proven to be useful time and time again. And this is one of those times. He has Aro convinced that it's for the sake of the Guard."

"Oh, god," I said, throwing myself onto the bed. "I have a babysitter, don't I?" Alec laughed, and sat down next to me. "He must _hate _me!"

Alec nodded. "Yes. But purely because, well," he tapped my temple. "He can't deny that you're beautiful," he said, kissing the tip of my nose. "Or that you're hilarious," he said, kissing my forehead. "Or that you're amazing." He kissed the corner of my lips teasingly, and then pulled away, grinning mischievously.

"I hate _you_," I told him, sitting back. "You know that?"

Alec laughed again. "And I you, my dear."

And Felix did come in, every so often. He'd asked me once or twice _why _it was so important to Alec that he kept an eye on me, but I didn't know what to say—_I think I'm falling in love with him, and I think he's in love with me, too? _I don't think that would go so well.

I'm beginning to wonder why Aro would want me here, if he didn't have some huge, master plan to get back at me and my family, or to use my powers. As I'm mulling over this, sitting on my bed, footsteps are outside my door, and two sets of them.

I sit up straight on my bed, and quickly slide off, walking quietly towards the door. "What do you want, Jane?" I hear Felix ask.

"Oh, don't get any ideas," Jane says. "I'm not here because I want to be, trust me. My brother was passing through—he wanted me to tell you that they haven't been having any luck, and he won't be here for a few more days, so you'll need to stay on baby-sitting duty until he's back," she sneers. "And now, what would my brother want me to tell you _that _for? Don't tell me he's been growing _attached _to the pathetic little half-human."

Felix shuffles his feet, and I hear a set of keys jiggling. "Step out of my way, Jane."

"Or _what_?" she scoffs. "What can _you _do to _me_, Felix?" I hear a loud bang, and the door shakes. She's pushed him back against the door. "Now. I believe I asked you a question."

"I don't know," Felix spits out. "Nor do I care. Now. I suggest _you let go of me. _I know you heard Aro and the others discussing what to do with the temperamental Jane Caravello. And I will _not _be going down with you." I cover my mouth with my hand, worried beyond belief about a girl who I absolutely hate because she is the sister of the boy I'm falling in love with. I take a step back from the door when I hear the knob turning, and Felix looks furious when he steps into the room.

"I assume you heard that," Felix says, sending a dark look in my direction. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

"Does Alec know?" I ask him, heart pounding.

Felix looks away. He sighs. "No, he doesn't. But I expect you'll be telling him?"

I shake my head. "You seem to know much more about it than I do. He loves her," I tell him.

Felix gives me a weird sort of half-smile. "Not as much as he loves you, _bella._" Felix has this funny way of inserting Italian words into his sentences, and it gets on my nerves when I don't know what he's saying.

I narrow my eyes at him. "Is that a family habit?" I can't help but ask. "Giving people annoying nicknames?" When he just laughs, I say, "He told you, then?"

Felix sighs. "We are Caravellos, _mio cara. _He is my family. He did not need to tell me."

"And _why _haven't you said anything before?" I ask him. "You've been bugging me for days!"

Felix shrugs, and leans back against the counter."He told me not to. But he also told me he would be back today, and it seems like there has been a change of plans."

I study his expression. "You think Aro just wanted him gone, don't you? You don't think there is a nomad at all, do you?"

"Oh, no. There _is_ a nomad. I don't doubt that."

I bite my lip. "Then what _do _you doubt?"

"That the nomad is this difficult to find. Aro wants to use you for something, and if he thinks Alec will get in the way, he will have no problem keeping him in the dark."

My breath catches in my throat. "When will Alec be back?"

Felix meets my gaze, and he looks worried. "I don't know."

That's the last exchange between Felix and I before Alec comes back, only two days later. He comes into my room in the middle of the night, the creak of the door waking me up. He looks exhausted, his eyes dark. I scoot over in the bed, and pat the spot next to me. He takes off his shoes and cloak, climbing under the covers. His arms curl around me, and I pull my knees to my chest. He kisses the place where my shoulder meets my neck, and I shiver.

"Alec," I sigh, the fogginess finally leaving my mind. I roll over so I'm facing him, press my hands to chin. "I was so worried," I tell him honestly. "Felix and I—Felix said—" I swallow hard. "We were worried. We thought . . . we thought Aro was keeping you away."

His jaw tightens under my fingers.

"Alec?"

It's then that I realize he's holding his breath, watching me with wide, thirsty eyes. I almost choke on my next words, jumping from the bed. "Alec—Alec, stay there. Please, Al, stay away from me." I flip on all of the lights as I go, tearing open the refrigerator. I grab as many bottles as I can, and run back to the bed, where Alec is now sitting with his head in his arms, silent.

"Alec," I whisper. He looks up at me, the guilt in his expression overwhelming me. My eyes fill with tears.

"I shouldn't have come," he says, almost imperceptibly. "I should have stayed away."

"No! No, you shouldn't have. Alec, we're . . ." I trail off, setting the bottles on the bed. My arms drop to my side. "We're together. That means that we love every part of each other. The bad and the good. We knew this would happen." I try to smile at him, but I know it turns out as some sort of grimace. "That's why I keep a full stash in my fridge." I've never felt more vulnerable with him than I do now, standing there with nothing but a t-shirt and underwear on, arguing with him.

Alec doesn't respond, watching me warily. He silently gets up and walks away, bottles in hand, into the kitchen. I can't see him through the wall that separates the two rooms, but I can hear him sliding out one of the barstools and collapsing onto it, just like I'm sure he can hear me sinking into the bed and sighing.

After a few minutes of unbroken silence, I flip off the bedside light and crawl back under the covers. If he wants to talk to me, he will. And if he doesn't, I'll give him space. But even as I resign myself to this, I almost ache with my longing for him, my worry. I missed him. A week, an hour, a minute, a second—I _missed_ him. And I missed him even more now, when he's just in the kitchen.

"That's it," I groan, and I get out of bed. He's still where I thought he was; sitting at the kitchen counter. The bottles are strewn out before him. He doesn't look up at me when I come to stand in front of him. "Alec, this is so pathetic—but I can't deal with the fact that you're upset with me. Not for a second."

Now he looks up, appearing even more distraught than before. "_Renesmee,_" he breathes my name. "I'm not upset with you." He presses his palms flat against the counter, eyes wide and pleading. "Not at all. I'm upset with myself. Aren't—how aren't you mad at me?"

I wipe my eyes. "This is ridiculous, Alec. We're being ridiculous."

He shakes his head. "No. No, we're not. I could have _hurt _you. If I'd really lost control—I could have _k_—" he cuts himself off. "I can't say it," he whispers. "I can't even think it."

I rub my temples. "We knew this would happen," I repeat.

"Does that change anything?" he asks me. "Does that make it any better? Does that make _me _any better?"

I look up—for a sign, maybe, for relief. I'm not a religious person; nobody in my family is, not really. We celebrate Christmas, and that's just about it. I've never even been inside a church. I'm not really anything; I've never really given God much thought, never really considered looking anywhere outside myself or my family for answers. But now I find that I am—I'm asking whoever it is out there to help the boy I'm in love with find reason.

"Alec," I sigh. "I'm exhausted, I'm worried, and I'm stressed out." I wave my hands around in the air as I speak. "And I'm going to go and lie down. When you've regained any sort of sense, come into bed with me."

Walking back into the room, I almost kiss the top of his head out of habit—but I know that would be one of the worst things I could do right now. I also know that I want nothing more than for him to put his arms around me, carry me to bed, and whisper in my ear until I fall asleep.

He comes into bed a few minutes later. I don't smell the blood on him, but I know he had some. His movements are cautious, uncertain. It makes me sad. After another moment of strange, heavy silence, he puts his arms around me, resting his chin on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

I let him curl around me until we're fitting together like puzzle pieces, tangled limbs and emotions. His breathing is quiet in my ear, and my heart is slow.

"I love you," he whispers. My heart stops.

We're both quiet. I think about those three, crazy words: my family has whispered them in my ear ever since the day I was born. I think about how those three words mean so much, but carry so little weight. My parents would say they loved me every night before I went to sleep, and every morning when I woke up. They would say it when they dropped me off at the bookstore, when they came home with ridiculous gifts from equally ridiculous vacations. Grandpa Carlisle and Grandma Esme didn't use the words nearly as much, and I wonder if maybe it's just so understood that they don't feel the need to utter the words. My mom's dad, my Grandpa Charlie, almost never said it. What was it that changed this word for each person, altered its meaning?

I've been quiet for so long that I know that Alec must be beyond worried and confused. I let out a heavy breath, chew on my lip. And then I say it. I say: "I love you, too."

His grip on me tightens, his toes curling with mine. "I love you," he says again, more clearly. "I love you. I'm never going to stop saying it."

I smile. My heart has never felt fuller.

I sleep well that night, better than when he was away. I know we have more that we need to talk about; I know that I need to tell him what Felix said about Jane. But I also know that the feeling I have with his arms around me is something I can never let go of.

I wake up with our legs still tangled together and his fingers splayed on my bare hips. His cold lips are pressed to my jaw, and I burrow myself even closer to him.

"I love you in the mornings," he says, and my heart soars.

"Just in the mornings?" I murmur through my sleepy stupor.

"No." His hands inch closer to each other on my stomach, slowly approaching our only boundary: my underwear. I have not lost my virginity, and I don't plan on it anytime soon. And even if I was—where, exactly, would we get condoms? I figure that contraception is not a common practice within vampire ranks. "Sometimes in the afternoon, too."

"I missed you," I tell him.

"A lot," he adds.

"A lot," I repeat.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"Alec . . ."

"No, I'm not going to just stop apologizing. I wasn't being rational_. _I missed you, I was worried . . . I didn't realize how thirsty I was, how long it had been."

"But that's just it. Love _isn't _rational. If it was, it wouldn't be love. We're not supposed to be rational. We're supposed to miss each other and worry like crazy."

"I'm sorry," he says again.

"I was never mad at you," I remind him.

"I'm _sorry_."

"I forgive you!"

"I'm still sorry."

I don't argue with him, letting out a heavy breath. His hands retreat from my waist to play with my hair. He starts to hum an unfamiliar tune, and I realize something. "I think we missed something," I tell him.

His hands freeze in my air. "What do you mean?"

I flop down onto my stomach to watch his expressions. "We missed something. We didn't go too quickly—that's not what I mean. It's been months since I got here, and we spend every day together. I just mean . . . we skipped that getting-to-know-each-other place. Does that make sense?"

Alec shakes his head. "No, I think I know you pretty well." He cups my chin in his hands. "I know that when you're nervous about saying something, you bite your lip. I know that you love your family so much it hurts. I know that when we . . ." he trails off and winks, "you make the cutest sound. I know that you worry more than anyone else I've met—although maybe not as much as me. I know that your hair looks crazy in the morning, and I know that you've never felt self-conscious about it. I know that you'd rather spend an entire day in your pajamas than get dressed up. I know that I love you. Isn't that enough?"

I'm stumped. He seems to know so much more about me than I do about him—and that doesn't seem right. "But what about the little things? Those are just as important."

Alec narrows his eyes at me. "Alright, then. Favorite color?"

"Red."

He smiles. "Brown."

"Not fair. Favorite movie?"

"I don't watch movies."

"No way!" I grin. "See, I didn't know that."

"Not important. Favorite food?"

"Totally important. You know all of these weird things about me, but you never tell me anything about yourself. And Italian."

"Mm. Good choice. Me, too. I'll have to get you some _real_ Italian food when we get out of here, though." I never really noticed it, but his voice seems to be . . . lacking an accent, or at least a specific one. It's almost as if he has so many accents that they've all blended into one, unidentifiable, beautiful one. That is, until he speaks Italian—like he had with Felix. And then it's the most gorgeous sound in the entire world. "What are you thinking?" he asks, when I don't immediately follow with another question.

"Your accent," I tell him honestly. "It's strange."

His lips quirk up in the corners. "Was that meant to be an insult?"

"No, not at all. I love it. But it's still strange—it's not any more Italian or French or British than it is American. Why?"

He shrugs. "Not exactly sure. Most of us are the same—they all sort of mix. I've lived in Italy for the most part of my existence, but I've bounced around quite a bit for Aro's purposes. France, Spain, Switzerland, Germany, England, Brazil, America . . . it's a long list."

"I must sound dreadfully American to you."

"No, you sound beautiful. Like bells." I push up on my elbows to kiss him. His arms return to their home around my waist, and I couldn't be happier. "Favorite place?" he asks me.

"I can show you."

He smiles. "Please do."

"I have more than one, so be patient."

"Always."

"Close your eyes." I splay my fingers across his cheeks, my thumbs on the corners of his lips. I start with the meadow on Forks: the place where my parents found refuge, and where I did, too. I give him the sounds of the birds and the breeze, and the smell of the flowers and past rain. I give him the feel of the wind in my hair—the peacefulness of it.

"Beautiful," he breathes.

I smile, and let it fade. Next, I give him a memory: me in my dad's lap, books of Rilke's poems spread out before us. There are stacks of E.E. Cummings around, too, and Dylan Thomas. This one's more of the feeling—the comfortable, protected feeling of being with my dad, his quiet voice in my ear as he reads _Child in Red. _

Alec's smile grows. I slowly fade it out, and go to the one that I'd been saving for him: my true, favorite place. In his arms. I start with the feelings this time. That feeling of love, of true home. I start small and make it stronger, blooming. And then I give him a sound—his voice last night, telling me he loved me. His arms tighten around me. And then I give him the image: his face swimming before my eyes. I hold it for just a moment, and then I let it go. He opens his eyes to meet mine, and I've never seen him as happy.

"I love you," he says again. "That was the most . . . wonderful thing."

"I love you, too."

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><p><strong>So this chapter was kind of just a fillerdevelopmental, but things will start getting pretty crazy soon. Get excited and review. **


	11. Chapter 11

**So many updates, so little time. Italy in FORTY-FIVE DAYS. Enjoy.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven<strong>

We spend the morning in bed, asking each other questions. I learn that the person Alec misses the most from his human life is actually Jane; he misses the old her, and the relationship they used to have. I tell him that I miss my dad more than anyone else—that I'd love to just have a conversation with him. Alec's surprised by this, for some reason; he had this ill-conceived notion that all girls are closer to their mothers, not their fathers.

"I just don't understand," he says. "Why not your mother?"

I shrug. "My mom and I just aren't that close, for some reason. I'm a lot like her, actually—my mom is just very . . . quiet. My dad is, too, actually, but he's different with me than he is with anyone else. I love them both, but my dad and I just get on really well."

"Hmm." He rubs his thumbs along the back of my hands. "Your mother is a very brave woman. When she came to save your father—I've never seen a woman love a man so strongly."

"Oh, don't bring that up to my dad, by the way. Ever. He can't handle it, not one bit. I brought it up once, after I found out about the whole thing—he just looked at me and then walked away. He didn't come home for a few days. The guilt still . . . eats at him."

Alec is quiet. "I can relate to that," he whispers. "The guilt still eats at me."

"_Alec_."

"I know we've talked about this, and I know where you stand. And if you ever bring it up, I won't ignore it. I think it's an important thing to talk about. I won't pretend like it didn't happen." He swallows. "I never told you this, but I'll tell you now. I was going to be the one who—" he cuts off. "While they—" he tries again. "God, I can't even say it."

"Alec," I say softly. "You don't need to say it."

"No, I need to say it. At least once. I don't like feeling choked by this. I think about it and I feel like I can't breathe." A muscle twitches in his jaw. "If it came to needing to . . . _kill_ . . ." He lets out a slow breath. "If you needed to be . . . If they killed you." His voice sounds rough, like he's holding back tears. His eyes look red-rimmed and weary. "I would have been made to numb you. I would have been made to _help _them."

"Oh, _Alec _. . ." My heart hurts. My head hurts. I try to swallow, but something's stopping me. I'm choking on tears. Alec takes my face in his hands, rubs away my tears as they fall. "I'm so sorry, Alec."

"I was the one who had to hunt down the immortal children," he whispers. "Aro and Caius—they made me. These children were vicious and cruel—but they were _innocent. _It was not their fault. They had . . . no _control. _You can't tell a baby not to cry—you can't tell a baby not to be hungry. Jane refused to help. That gave me hope; I wondered if I was getting my sister back. But it didn't last. I tried with a few of the children—to wean them, to satiate their hunger—unbeknownst to Aro."

My heart aches for him. How could anyone live with that? Killing _children. _"I can't believe they made you . . ."

Alec shakes his head. "No, it was awful. It still is. I _feel _awful about it, every day. But I didn't let them suffer. I was kind. Anyone else would have harmed them, tortured them. I didn't let them suffer."

"You did the right thing," I tell him. "You've always done the right thing."

"I hope so. I've always tried to."

I look up at him through my laced fingers. "You would be a great father," I tell him honestly. I drop my hands. "Is it weird that I think about that?"

Alec sighs. "Do you remember when Carlisle came into the room and saw us, and you said 'it just happened'? And he thought that you were pregnant?" I think back, and I do remember. And I remember Alec looking very, very confused by Carlisle's reaction. At the time, I'd thought that he just wasn't following the conversation, didn't understand what Carlisle had thought I meant. I nod at him. "Well, I kind of wished he was right." He seems kind of sheepish, embarrassed for even thinking it.

"Alec," I start slowly, realizing what it was that had confused him about our exchange. "You do know . . . you know that I can have kids, right?"

He shakes his head back and forth, clearing it, and a slow smile forms on his lips. "I can be a father?" he whispers, awed. "We can have children? Together?"

My eyebrows furrow. "Well . . . yeah."

Alec shakes his head again. "I had no idea. This is . . . amazing. I'd wondered for the past six hundred years . . . I could never have a family . . ." He runs his thumb along the side of my jaw, cups my face in both palms. "I would be nothing, here, without you," he whispers, cool breath fanning across my face. "You know that?"

I hold his hands to my cheeks. "Yes."

Alec grins wildly, and begins kissing me everywhere—everywhere but my lips, that is. He kisses my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, my chin, my eyelids. "I love you," he whispers, lips almost brushing mine. Finally. "Did you know that?"

I smile, too. "Yes. I knew that, too."

His own smile can't seem to leave his face. To test it, I say, "On the downside, I do get my period. But it's very sporadic."

"Oh," he says, still grinning. "Sure. I just can't believe . . . Ness, this is amazing."

"Yeah, the miracle of childbirth and all that."

"No," he breathes. "You don't understand. I'd thought for _six hundred years _that I could never have children. This is the . . . most spectacular thing, angel."

I point at him. "I am not ready to have kids. So don't get too carried away."

"Oh, no," he waves me off. "I wouldn't have thought so. Just . . . having the _option_."

And then he stiffens. And his smile fades.

"Alec?" I say, brow furrowed. "Alec, what's wrong?"

"Shit, shit, shit. Why did you _tell _me that?" He rubs his forehead. "Oh, no, Renesmee."

"I told you because you brought it up and I thought that you should know. And we've come pretty close to . . . you know, so you should probably find some way to get condoms. You know, being responsible—" I cut myself off, watching his expression. He's seriously_ worried _about something. "Alec, I don't understand. What is it?"

"They . . . if Aro finds out, he'll . . ." Alec's wide-eyed, watching me. He swallows hard.

And then I get it. I gasp. "Alec, you don't think he—No, he—" I clench my teeth. "Do you really think he would?"

Alec closes his eyes briefly, his forehead wrinkled. "I can't even think of what he would do to that poor child," he whispers.

I lay my hand on my flat abdomen. The thought makes me sick. "We shouldn't . . ." I trail off.

Alec nods. "Not until we leave. It's not worth the risk."

"Especially . . ." I meet his eyes. "My mom's pregnancy lasted less than a month," I say quietly. "And since I'm not even fully human . . . I can't imagine how short it would be. And without my grandpa to look after me—" I shiver. "No. Nothing can happen. And Aro _can't _findout_._"

Alec's eyes harden. "No, he can't find out. Not ever."

I rest my chin on his chest, watching how his expression shifts—anger to worry to love. "We would have a pretty cute kid, though," I whisper.

Alec cracks a smile. "Yes, we would."

"I was just thinking of Jane," I say, after a moment.

"Jane? Why?"

"Well, my aunt Rose—you know, Rosalie?" He nods. "Well, she's kind of like Jane. I mean, not to that extreme, I guess, but with the whole baby thing. She always wanted a kid, and when my grandpa changed her, she sort of . . . lost it. My grandma Esme, too. When she was human, she had an abusive husband, and she ended up running away from him. She found out she was pregnant a few days later, but the baby died just after he was born from lung problems. Esme killed herself—or, she tried, and Carlisle changed her on her deathbed. That's why the whole family thing is such a big deal for her—why she prides herself on being my dad's adoptive mother."

"That's awful," he whispers. "I can't imagine losing a child."

"I know. She never really got over it. She has this one photo of him, her son, and she looks at it every night. I walked in on her once. It's terrible. But with Rose—when my mom first started dating my dad, Rose was really, really mean to her. And then, when she got pregnant with me, and everyone else was convinced well, you know, and wanted her to . . ." I swallow, and Alec's hand touches mine. I smile at him, letting him know it's fine. My family told me the whole gruesome story: how nobody really wanted me until my dad could hear my thoughts. It's upsetting, but I also see how much everyone loved me the second I was born. "Well anyway, the point is, Rose was the one person who stuck by my mom. For selfish reasons, obviously: she only cared that I lived. But they're really close now because of me."

He smiles at me. "You think Jane would like you if you were pregnant," he realizes.

"Just, I mean—maybe, if she knew that I could be, eventually, she'd support us, be on our side. And I know how much you love her; I can't imagine you leaving her behind when we go, Al."

"You're the kindest, sweetest person I know," he says, kissing me gently. "Especially after how awful she's been to you, Ness, I really appreciate it. Thank you."

My eyes water. "Al, there's . . . there's something else I needed to talk to you about. About Jane. When you were gone, and Felix was looking after me, Jane confronted him. And I overheard their conversation. I guess there's been talk."

"Talk about what?"

"About getting rid of Jane." I say this quietly, hoping that maybe he won't freak out. "I'm sorry, I just couldn't not say something to you."

Alec nods slowly. "Thank you, love." His voice is strained, thick. "I'll find out what's going on."

"Al, did Aro send you away for nothing?"

He looks startled. "Who told you that?"

"Felix and I were talking about it, about how he might be keeping you away for a reason." I shrug. "Felix _also _told me that he knew we were together."

Alec gives me a small smile. "I knew he'd figured it out. He knows me pretty well. But no, I don't think he was. Especially because I wasn't alone; he sent Demitri with me, and a few of Felix's men. Seems like a waist of good people."

"Okay, good. I was worried, to say the least."

"Like crazy?"

"Like crazy."

When someone knocks on the door just moments later, both of us are startled. Alec leaps from the bed, slips on his cloak, and his expression hardens. The sudden transformation is frightening. I pull up the sheets and roll over, hoping all of those years of pretending to be asleep so that Aunt Alice wouldn't take me shopping would pull off.

I listen to the door opening, to Alec greeting whoever it is mildly. The atmosphere in the room abruptly changes when I hear the voice of our guest. _Aro. _

"What is it?" Alec asks, voice hard.

I can hear Aro stepping into the room, the bottom of his cloak brushing the stone floor. "She's quite pretty," Aro says. "Isn't she?"

Alec stays quiet.

"If I were you . . ." Aro tsks. "In here all day long . . . Such a beautiful girl, don't you think? Those eyes, that hair."

My stomach clenches at the realization of what he's implying. I can only hope that Alec can contain himself.

"And that smell," Aro whispers. He inhales deeply. "Lovely. Hard to resist, isn't it?"

"It gets easier with time," Alec agrees. I can only hope that Aro doesn't pick up on the sharp undertone Alec's trying so hard to hide.

"I'll be back in an hour," Aro says. "Have her awake and dressed," I hear the sound of rustling, "in this. It's time."

"Yes, sir. I'll make sure she's ready." The door opens and shuts, and Alec is by my side in seconds. I open my mouth to speak, and Alec silences me with the touch of his finger. "Shh." After a minute or so, he drops his finger.

"I'm confused." Alec holds up the bundle of fabric in his hands. It's black and almost leathery—sort of like . . . "_Alec_. Are they . . . _training_ me?"

Alec looks anxious. "Yes. Or so it would seem. Demitri mentioned something of the sort to me briefly; he said that they were preparing some sort of training course . . . but nobody had actually thought they were doing it!"

"I'm going to die," I tell him seriously.

"No, you're not. But I can tell you it's not going to be pleasurable."

I frown. He hands the clothes to me, and I stare at it doubtfully. Stretchy leather pants paired with an equally tight-looking leather top. "I might need some help getting this on," I tell him, partly honest and partly because he's just so, so cute and we definitely have not kissed enough today.

He grins at me, slipping his cloak from his arms. "Oh, do you?"

I slowly climb from bed, grasping the hem of his shirt in my hands. "I feel like I always have less clothes on than you." I lift his shirt up over his head, and I'm overwhelmed by the glorious sight of his bare chest. It gets me every single time. I flatten my hands on his incredible abs, and he laughs. Even in the dark of the room, his skin glows.

"Really? I feel like you always have _too_ much clothes on." As he says this, he lifts my shirt up off my head.

"Hmm," I say, jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist. He smiles into his kisses on my neck, and I curl my fingers into his hair.

Between kisses, he says, "You . . . are . . . so . . . beautiful."

I pull up his head so his eyes meet mine, and he pulls me forward so his lips meet mine. This kiss immediately starts out different than our other kisses. It's deep, rushed and intense. I'm hardly aware that I'm moaning into his mouth, a hot feeling starting in the pit of my stomach and warm tingles spreading up and down my arms. We fall back onto the bed, him above me. He holds himself up, so as not to hurt me. I'm breathing hard.

"We can't," he says.

I'm reminded again of our conversation from earlier that day, and I sigh heavily. He slowly lets himself off of me, lying down just by my side. He tucks his face into that place where my shoulder meets my neck, and I shiver. He kisses me gently there, right in that spot, and I barely stop myself from jumping him again.

"Well this sucks," I tell him honestly.

He lets out a slow laugh, pulling away. "Get dressed, love. If Aro were to see you . . . I wouldn't be able to stop myself from tearing him to pieces."

I sigh, picking up the outfit from the floor. My breasts feel smothered just looking at it. "This isn't much better," I remind him, holding it out.

"Oh, trust me, angel. The real thing is _much _better."

I smile sheepishly. I feel sort of exposed, standing in front of him in nothing but underwear, but it's also kind of exhilarating. I've never felt more attractive, either. Somehow, his pants are no longer on, so he's watching me, cross-legged, in nothing but boxers.

"Please put clothes on," I tell him. "Or I won't be able to help myself. And I was being serious before. I'm going to need help getting this on."

He laughs, climbing from the bed. He kisses me on the cheek and brushes his fingers on my hip before bending down to grab his jeans, which he pulls on smoothly. I shake myself and turn back to the shirt. I survey the shirt, then my breasts, then the shirt, then my breasts. "I don't think I can wear a bra with this," I tell Alec.

He snorts. "Why?"

"It's so damn small." I hold it in front of my chest. "Gah. Help me, please." It zips in the back, so I slip my arms through. It's surprisingly soft—and comfortable. But still tight. It's like wearing spandex . . . that shows sixty percent of my breasts.

Alec's eyebrows go up. And up. And up. Way up. "Oh."

"Stop. Staring. And. Zip."

Alec frowns and gestures for me to turn around. It zips easily, and then I turn back to face him. "I don't like this," he says.

"My boobs? Or the fact that everyone will be able to see them?"

"Definitely the latter."

I sit down on the bed. "Hand me the pants?" He does, and I slowly start to put them on, one leg at a time. "I change my mind," I say. "You're going to need to help me get these _off._"

"I gladly volunteer my services."

Once I have both legs, I get off the bed to pull them all the way up. Alec watches warily, looking me up and down. "I don't like it," he says. "Take it off."

I watch his expression, the way his eye almost seems to be twitching. "Well, I kind of like it. All of the perks of being naked—I _feel _pretty naked, at least—without having to get undressed." I start jumping up and down. "It's very flexible."

Alec growls, a low sound deep in his throat. "_Angel_."

I stop jumping long enough to kiss him gently on the lips. "Stop it. I'll be fine. Killers tend to be nicer to girls who are pretty." I take my hair out of my bun and flip it around, so it falls down my back. "Put a shirt on. Aro will be here soon." I walk into the kitchen for a bottle of blood, figuring I may as well be prepared for anything.

I jump up onto the counter, watching my reflection in the fridge door. I look_ hot. _Granted, I don't look much like myself, and my dad would go on a rampage if he saw me, but it's kind of wonderful. I'm still watching my reflection when Alec walks into the room behind me.

I stop drinking straight away. "Do you want me to put it away? It's fine if you do."

He waves it off. "No, it doesn't bother me. Yesterday . . . that was you. Not animal blood. And I was thirsty. I'm definitely not thirsty now." He kisses me on the shoulder. "Promise me that whatever they have you do, you'll listen to them. And you'll be careful."

"Of course." He gives me a look. "_Yes. _I promise."

"Knowing Aro, he'll make sure you have an audience, but . . . it'll be fine, I'm sure. I have faith in you. I'm sure he just wants to test your abilities—see how you'd stand in a fight."

"Did he give you shoes for me?"

Alec shakes his head. "No, he didn't. Just wear your sandals, I guess. I'm sure if you needed to wear shoes he'd have given you a pair."

I raise my eyebrows at him. "How about I rebel, and I don't wear shoes?"

He snorts. "Plan."

"I love you," I say, in a sing-song voice.

Alec grins. "I love how much we say it. I love you, too."

I touch his cheek gently, setting my bottle down. "I don't want you to ever forget," I say softly.

"I couldn't." And then he grins at me, and I'm melting all over the kitchen floor.

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><p><strong>Ahhh. Next chapter's gonna be GOOOOOD. Finally, she leaves the room.<strong>

**Review, please. I'm finally updating and I'm not getting reviews! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Everyone wanted a great "training scene" and I'm pretty sure I'm giving you one. Hope you like it!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve<strong>

I'm still on this awkward high after that hot-and-heavy scene between Alec and me. I walk in between Aro and Alec down the hallway, and I have to hold my hands behind my back to keep from brushing fingers with Alec. I'm sending him '_I love you_'s in my mind, and his lips are twitching in the corners.

_I love you_. Twitch. _I love you. _Twitch.

I make a valiant effort not to smile.

We walk for a while, down hallways dark and light, cement and stone, cold and warm. I catch glimpses of a sunny sky out of the high windows, and my skin itches with desire. I miss the sun. I miss fresh air. I haven't been outside in almost three months. I finally feel like an actual prisoner, walking down the hall with escorts—even if one of them is the boy I love.

Finally, we stop before a set of metal doors that don't quite fit in with the rest of the wooden décor.

"This is our first stop," Aro says, pulling open the door. The room is blindingly white, with various humans—the smell is distinguishable—waiting at different desks. "Medical evaluations," he says, and I almost cringe. The sterile smell of the room should have been a giveaway, if not that there are various needles on different desks, just waiting to prick my skin.

I groan internally. This is worse than I imagined. At the first desk, a woman draws my blood gingerly. She looks anxious; I can't tell if it's because of me or because of Alec or Aro. She hooks me up to some sort of IV, and I'm forced to sit there for about five minutes before she takes it out of my arm. Another woman walks by with a Styrofoam cup of blood in her hand. I take it eagerly, feeling weary, and smell it. It's definitely animal, not human. I drink it slowly, meeting Alec's gaze from across the room. He looks worried. I send him a thought, slowly, so as not to startle him. _I'm fine. _

He looks up, then down, the equivalent of a nod. He heard me.

I'm then made to look through these different sorts of binoculars. In each one, I need to push a button whenever I see something move or shift. As I go along, each image gets darker, until in the third to last one (of eight) I can't see anything at all. I suppose they had higher expectations for me.

After a few more evaluations, Aro gestures for all of the nurses to leave the room, which they do, before leading Alec and I through another set of metal doors against the back wall. It startlingly contrasts the first room; walls are tiled and black, and it looks to be completely empty. It's also impossibly long; it stretches at least the length of two football fields, and at least thirty feet high ceilings. The left wall seems to be some sort of reflective glass, and I can only assume that there are members of the Guard watching behind it.

"Stand here," Aro says, pointing to an area marked with tape. "We'll return shortly." Aro gestures for Alec to follow him, leading him back out the doors from which we entered.

I stand where Aro told me to, facing the reflective wall wearily. I grimace at my image, knowing that others are seeing me in this frighteningly revealing costume of Aro's.

The brush of air is what alerts me to the fact that I'm not alone. I turn, and Felix is standing there, a wry smile on his lips. But I can tell from his eyes—that smile is a show, and he feels bad. He's apologizing silently, whether to me or to Alec I don't know.

I stagger back when he slams his fist into my shoulder, followed by a flying roundhouse kick to my side. I fall back, barely catching myself with my hands on the slippery floor. I'm glad for the sandals; as I stand up, I slide them off of my feet. I run faster barefoot. I look at Felix warily before running in the opposite direction, trying to remember all of the mock-fight lessons between Uncle Jasper and I. He never actually hurt me, but he taught me a few things._ If only I could remember. _

I grin when I remember my shield; I put it up instantly. But soon I reach the other side of the room, and Felix is standing there waiting for me. I watch his lips move, form the words _I'm sorry_, and then his foot is snapping against my jaw. In my surprise, I'd dropped my shield. While I spit out blood, I fill his vision with the sight of me running back the way we came, and he falls for it, moving to sprint back that way.

Staying near the wall, I run quietly and quickly to keep up with him, trying my hardest to maintain the vision and hoping he can't hear my footsteps.

I take my chance, just as we're reaching the other wall; I reach out my leg to kick him with my shin, just under the back of his knee. He stumbles, and just that fraction of a distraction gives me the time I need to hit him again—hard. It isn't as precise a blow as I would have liked, not with the skilled way he was dodging, but it's better than nothing.

I've failed to keep the image up at this point, but that would be useless. He has me trapped against the wall now, but I'm small and fast and I duck under his arm, getting behind him. But he's too fast, still, and I can't keep up with his movements; most everything he does is a blur, and he's hit me twice more before I even see him coming. My head is spinning, and I'm sure I'm bleeding where he last kicked me. Sure enough, something wet drips into my eye, and I wipe it away hastily.

He swings another punch. I bend backward just in time and feel his knuckles swish past my nose, barely grazing. I take a quick step forward, and I feel like Alice in that fleeting moment, dancing on my toes the way she did when she "fought" with Jasper. It's all a dance, I think, and dip low to kick Felix hard in the stomach, but he halts my attack with a glancing blow to the side of my head. I wince, but the throbbing is quickly gone and I realize this must be Alec: I can't imagine what I look like right now, how he must think of me. I find him somewhere in that crowded room next to Felix and I, sending a quiet _Thank you. _

My hesitation gives Felix all the time he needs to send me flying backwards into the glass wall; the force of the throw results with a thundering crash. Thin needles of glass splinter through my clothes into arms and back. There's chaos now, behind me, all of the Guard scrambling to back away from us. I can see the amusement in their faces, though, and I use it to fuel my anger. I ignore the pain and jump onto Felix; but he throws me off easily.

The worst part of fighting a vampire is that I know he is in absolutely no pain; nothing I do will hurt him, nothing I do will make him feel the way I do. He's unstoppable, and he towers over me.

I don't bother trying to get up off the floor this time; _everything_ hurts, and I think I've broken something. Felix laughs whole-heartedly, and I hear someone clapping: _Aro_. My vision is blurry, and all I can think is: this _sucks. _Just seconds later, I think Alec's mental grip on me slips and everything rushes in. The shards of glass embedded deep in my skin, the cut on my forehead, the bruises and bumps covering almost every inch of my body, and finally a _searing _pain that hits me harder than anything else. I lie there on the ground, gasping for breath. Blood rushes in my ears. I can't stay still because the pain is so terrible, but just moving my fingers makes it worse. I feel cool fingers on my shoulder, someone trying to move my arm, but I grasp it tightly with my other hand. It feels like a dead weight; I can move my fingers and my hands, but it feels completely disconnected from the rest of my body. Every breath I take brings tears to my eyes, and I can hardly stand the pain. Suddenly, it disappears, and I can see Alec's face looming above me. He's talking slowly, but I can't hear anything other than the pounding of my heart. I let my eyes slip shut, and I can feel that I'm being moved but it doesn't matter; I know I'm in Alec's arms, and that's the safest place I could ever be.

I wake up hours later, in my bed. I grimace when I remember the fight, remember that awful pain. I open my eyes and find my grandpa sitting on my bed, watching me with wary eyes.

"Grandpa," I exclaim quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" he says, voice soft. He frowns at me. I look down at myself, and realize I must be _pretty drugged up_ if I don't feel any of this. I'm bandaged almost everywhere—as far as I can see, at least—and my right arm is in a sling. My bare shoulder is purple and bruised, as is most of my visible skin. I gingerly touch my forehead, only to find a bandage taped over my cut. My jaw aches, and I feel a bruise already formed on my cheek bone.

"Well, that's pretty awful, isn't it?" I ask him, feigning to be nonchalant. But everything is starting to ache now, the pain really sinking in. "I must look terrible."

Grandpa lays his gentle hands on my knees, squeezing there. "It could have been so much worse," he whispers. "I can't imagine what Aro would plan to achieve from this—it's awful. You're so very _human_," he says, as if bestowing a gift upon me. "You could never stand against a vampire."

I exhale. "That's not fair. I think I did pretty well, under the circumstances."

"Yes, sweetheart. I was proud to hear that you had lasted almost five minutes with that monster."

I shake my head. "Felix isn't a monster. He felt bad—I could tell. We're not on bad terms."

"Renesmee," Grandpa breathes. "You have too much faith in others. These people—these awful, cruel people—are not your allies. They won't help you, my sweet girl. They aren't your friends."

My head hurts. "Where's Alec?" I interrupt.

"He'll be here soon. The blood was—a little much for him. I had to set your shoulder, and remove the glass from your arms and back. He stood outside and numbed you for me; he didn't trust the morphine." Grandpa sighs. "That boy . . . that boy loves you, Renesmee. Don't break his heart."

"I remember you being worried for _my_ heart the last time I saw you, Grandpa."

I'm only kidding, but Grandpa regards me seriously with his golden eyes. "I am, sweetheart. Always. But that boy . . . I've never seen something like that before. Not even the wolves, or your father. He's absolutely taken by you, Renesmee. If you—it would ruin him. Absolutely ruin him."

I frown at what he's implying. "Never. I love him, Grandpa. I could never hurt him like that."

Grandpa stands from the bed. I can see that his hands are shaking, and this surprises me. Even with being my grandfather, Carlisle appears young and handsome and composed. I feel as if I see a different side of him here—a weakened, worried side of him. "Jacob wouldn't agree," he says softly.

My heart stops for a moment. _Jacob._ "I can't help how I feel."

"I know you can't, sweetheart. Not even the best of us can. I just can't help but worry for that poor boy; I see him as one of my own, you know. We all love him, even Aunt Rose." Grandpa picks up the copy of Rilke's poems on my nightstand, flips through it absentmindedly. "He still hasn't left. He won't leave until you've escaped. He's accepted it, as awful as it is."

"_Grandpa,_" I whisper sadly. "I don't know what I can do that would—what would fix that? Nothing can fix that for him, Grandpa."

He nods slowly. "I know. I know. But I know that he hopes to still be close with you; even if that only means friends. He can't stand to be away, no matter what the cost."

The thought of having to be mere friends with the person you love—of never being truly happy—strikes me as the most terrible thing. To never be loved back? To be always hoping, waiting, for something that will never happen? "Can he ever love anyone else?" I ask Grandpa. "Can he ever be happy without me?"

Grandpa squeezes my uninjured hand. "I hope so, sweetheart. I really, really do."

And then the door flies open, and in runs Alec looking completely flustered and worried. "Renesmee!" he exclaims. He lets out a heavy breath, seeing my eyes are open and I am awake. He hurries to my other side, opposite Grandpa. "How are you feeling? Are you alright? I would've been here the moment you'd awoken—but Aro had called me aside, and I couldn't get away faster. Does it hurt?"

I smile at him—his rushed words said more about him than any of my questions ever could. "Alec," I say softly, and he returns a lopsided smile to me, still looking very, very anxious. He looks up at my grandfather, a question in his eyes.

"She'll be fine," he says, and the stiffness leaves Alec's shoulders.

"And her shoulder?"

"It'll be rough for the first few days, and she'll have to be careful with it for a while, but it'll be fine."

Alec sighs. "Thank God." He reaches out to touch me, hold me, do something, but seems worried.

Grandpa laughs. "They're mostly just bruises and scrapes," he says. "You can touch her. Just be careful of her arm, son. I'm not sure how long Aro will let me stay, so I may need you to help her with re-dressing her wounds."

Alec nods. "Of course. Absolutely."

"Alec," I start. "You don't need—if it's too much, you don't need to."

He frowns at me, tucking a stray curl behind my ear. "I can handle it, angel. I'm getting better. I couldn't stand you being in pain—losing you—because I wasn't strong enough to handle it." He kisses me on the nose. "I love you," he whispers, his breath fanning across my cheeks.

I smile, letting my eyes shut. I feel him linger as I whisper back to him. "I love you, too."

Grandpa lets go of my hand, and we both turn to look at him. "I'll be right back," he says, a quiet smile on his lips. "I need to speak with Aro."

After he leaves the room, Alec says, "I'm so furious with Felix."

I groan. "Not you, too." I raise my eyebrows. "It's not his fault. It's Aro's. Felix felt awful about it. He apologized, while we were fighting."

"I don't care. If he'd truly felt badly, he wouldn't have taken it so far. He was—_throwing _you. Angel, that doesn't sit well with me."

My stomach clenches. "I think I did well," I say, stubbornly.

Alec's expression softens. "You did fantastic, angel. You were beautiful out there—until you were in so much pain I could hardly stand it."

I frown. "Were you taking it away? After each hit? I didn't feel too awful until the end."

He nods slowly, holding my gaze. "I was. I couldn't let you be in pain." He grimaces. "Aro was standing next to me, counting your injuries. Each and every one. Cataloguing. He wants me to watch how long it takes each injury to heal—and then compare that to a human's healing process."

I bite my lip. "So that's why he wanted to do this, then? So he could see how quickly I heal?"

Alec nods. "And so he could see how well you would fare in a fight with a vampire. I think it's safe to assume he would never let you out without guards—nothing I'd complain about."

"I don't understand. Does he plan on sending me _out—_to run _errands _for him? Torture vampires?"

Alec shrugs. "I don't know, love. Don't worry about it, not yet." He leans down to kiss me gently. "I'm going to go get something to drink, okay? Do you want water, angel?"

I shut my eyes. "Yeah, sure. Thanks."

"Of course."

Aro has my grandfather leave a few hours later. Just as before, we don't say goodbye. He leaves with a _see you later_ and a reminder to Alec to dress my cuts again once a day. I sleep the rest of the day, Alec by my side. Any time I'm in pain, he takes it away.

The next morning, I'm aching all over. I haven't seen myself in the mirror yet—or gone to the bathroom—so I take my chance. Alec isn't anywhere to be found, and I know that if he were here he would never let me get out of bed. The process is slow and painful. Every inch of my skin feels raw, and my right leg is practically useless—a piece of glass went deep into my thigh, and it hurts more than anything.

When I reach the bathroom, I have to say it's quite the horrifying sight. The bruises on my cheek and jaw have darkened almost completely, and the bandage on my forehead covers part of my eyebrow. My eyes are shadowed by dark circles, and I've never looked paler. I pee quickly, and as I'm washing my hands my head starts to pound so badly I just need to _sit_—and so I do, right in the middle of my bathroom.

I'm still there, minutes later, when I hear the door to the room open.

"Angel?" Alec's voice comes, anxious. "Angel, where are you?"

The bathroom door flies open, and he's standing there, breathing hard.

"Oh, hey," I say, giving him a half-wave.

"Are you okay?" He kneels down next to me, pressing a gentle hand to my forehead.

I shrug. "I couldn't make it back to the bed, and this is a lovely place to spend the day, don't you think?"

Alec snorts, moving his hand to my cheek before leaning forward to rest his forehead against mine. Our noses touch. He cups my face in his hands, thumbs caressing my cheekbones. "I absolutely love you," he says.

I kiss him. "This sucks. I feel too shitty to jump you—yesterday . . ." I trail off. Alec leans back, and I wink suggestively. He squeezes my uninjured hand.

"Was wonderful," he finishes. "Let me go get the bandages your grandfather left. I need to redress these cuts on your back, love." He kisses me once more, and then goes to get them. He's back in seconds. We both sit there a moment, wondering how to do this.

I sigh. "This sucks," I repeat.

Alec nods, not arguing. He gently takes off my sling, and I cradle my arm to my chest. "We need to get your shirt off," he says. "I'm sorry if this hurts, love. I'll numb you." And so he does, taking off my shirt slowly for me, slipping it over my arm. I don't feel a thing. He looks sad, upset by all of the bruises covering my chest and stomach and sides. He brushes his cool fingers over them gently, kissing each one. It's not sexual or passionate—it's sweet. My breasts are the only unharmed part of my body, and Alec regards them quite seriously. "Thank god for that," he says, and I can't tell if he's kidding or being serious. After another moment, he moves to sit behind me. He takes off each bandage slowly, and I can hear him wince at each one. His fingers brush them tenderly with the gauze my grandpa left him. He works quickly, and soon he's done. I lean back against him once he's finished, and he wraps his arms around me, his cool skin on my bare stomach making me shiver. I burrow my face in the crook of his neck, and he leans his cheek against mine. We sit like that, wrapped in each other's arms. It feels like we're waiting for something—whether its words that neither of us is willing to speak, a mention of someone, a kiss, a touch, a glance, I don't know. My heart aches for him.

I wonder at how much he's lost—more than I ever have, more than I can imagine losing in my life. I lost a childhood; he lost all hope for a life. He lost his family.

"I'm sorry," I say, quietly. Alec twists around to look at me, and I watch his eyes until he realizes what it is I'm alluding to.

He sighs. "I know you are. But you don't need to be, angel. I don't want you to be."

"My family is great," I say, not bragging, not trying to. "You'll love them. They'll love you."

Alec doesn't meet my eyes. "You would have loved my mother. She was so kind. She cared for everyone in our village; no one was kind to her, but she never held it against them. She knew she was different." He smiles softly, and I know he's somewhere far away. "Jane looks so much like her. She was beautiful. I look like my father, though."

"What color were your eyes?"

The question surprises him. "Gray. My eyes were gray. My father's eyes."

I try to imagine it, and it's remarkably easy. Loving his eyes has nothing to do with the color, but everything to do with being able to see him inside them. "And Jane?"

"The same," he says.

"I wonder"—I begin—"Nevermind."

"What?"

"My dad had green eyes," I tell him. "I inherited my mom's brown."

"Oh. I don't know, love. It would be spectacular, but I don't know."

"You never said what happened to your dad."

Alec's expression hardens, but I can see the pain, the agony, in his eyes. "That's because I don't know. Nobody knew. He just . . . didn't wake up. Life was very different then. Everything was very different then." He stops suddenly, and we both know what he was about to say:

_I was very different then._

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><p><strong>I thought that was a pretty good fight scene, considering it was the <em>first <em>I've ever written! It was pretty fun to write, actually. I enjoyed it quite a bit. Hope I didn't disappoint! Merry-belated-Christmas (Happy Hannukah!) and Happy New Years! _REVIEW!_**


	13. Chapter 13

**Two updates in a period of five minutes. Skills. This story is without a doubt the fastest-updated of all of the stories I've written. Enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen<strong>

"Renesmee," Aro's sugary voice draws me out of my sleep. I glance around in a way I hope is discreet. Alec is nowhere in sight, and I don't know whether to be relieved or concerned.

"Aro," I greet him, sitting up as best as I can. "To what do I owe this visit?"

"I wanted to tell you that once you're feeling better, I'll be requiring your services. I was quite impressed by you yesterday." He grins easily. "Your beauty, of course, will help some. But I will not be putting you in harm's way. You're much too crucial."

I press my lips together, holding back curses and retorts. "Oh, well, thank you. For letting me know."

He nods, looking me over. "Of course. No broken bones?" he clarifies. "You never cease to surprise me," he adds, without waiting for my response. "Wonderful. Just wonderful. Your grandfather said that shoulder of yours should be better within a week, although those bruises are another story. I'll need you looking your best. I've sent out one of our humans—a beauty, but perfectly useless—to purchase finer clothing." He smiles again, walking over to the door. "I'll be seeing you soon, darling. It's been lovely visiting with you."

I force a smile. "Always." It drops from my face as soon as he leaves the room. "_Shit._"

I sleep for the rest of the day. Alec returns late at night, and the telltale sounds of him in the kitchen wakes me up.

"Alec?" I whisper.

He comes to the bed, smiling gently. He holds a mug with tea in one hand, a piece of toast in the other. He sets the toast in my lap, and hands me the mug. I take it with my uninjured hand.

"Alec," I say, when he sits down in bed next to me. "We have a problem."

His smile falls. "Oh, no. What now?"

"Aro came to me today."

He lets out a breath. "What? Into the room? Here?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Obviously."

He frowns at me. "What did he say?"

"That he will be 'requiring my services' when I'm better."

"Did he say for what?" I shake my head. "That's all? Nothing more?"

I frown at him now. "No, nothing more. That was all." I wrinkle my nose. "Well, and he said some things about my 'beauty' all creeper- and killer-like, but that's it. You don't think he's making me a vampire prostitute, do you?" Alec doesn't laugh, just sinks further into the pillows and frowns more deeply. I nudge him gently. "Al, let's not worry about it yet, okay? We have at least a week, maybe two, until I'm up for anything." I sip at my tea. "Thanks, by the way. For taking care of me."

Now he smiles a bit, although his eyes are still worried. "Of course, angel." He kisses me on the temple. "Of course."

We're both quiet. I lick my lips, dreaming of lip balm. I miss lip balm. And the television, sort of. And my iPod. "Tell me something," I say finally.

Alec sighs, and his breath is sweet. "Mm. Let me think. I've got it." He sits up and turns to face me, cross-legged. I'm reminded of yesterday morning, when he sat cross-legged on my bed in his boxers. We were having a _very _different conversation then. I push the thought away. "I used to be a lord."

My eyebrows go up. Way up. "A lord?" I repeat.

"Well, yes. A lord. In Germany. And then a duke, eventually."

My lips quirk. "Were you ever a king?" I ask, only half kidding.

"I was a prince, once, but no. Never a king."

Oh my god, he's totally serious.

"I don't understand. When you say you were these things does that mean—"

"I was pretending to be those things. I never truly _was _one. Remember, I was a poor peasant as a human."

"Right."

Alec laughs at my expression. "Tell me something," he repeats, resting his chin in his hands.

"One something? Or a lot of somethings?"

He grins. "As many somethings as you want."

I rest my head back on the pillows, still keeping my eyes on him. "My family's a little bit crazy," I start. "Like, when I was younger, I never wore an outfit twice. Never. Maybe pajamas, but that's it. I grew so fast, and that was definitely part of it. But my aunts were documenting my childhood—they took pictures every day, made scrapbooks. We traveled so much that if you just looked through the albums, it was the average life of a super, super rich kid." I smile a little. "My aunt Alice was especially crazy, buying clothes for me constantly. I wasn't just my parents' kid, I was my entire family's kid. I was the only chance they would get. My parents were great while I was growing up, though. Maybe a bit protective, and my mom was always upset about how quickly I was aging, but I had a great childhood considering. My dad would take me on day trips—he'd wake me up in the morning and whisper in my ear." I shut my eyes and whisper: "Where do you want to go today, Ness? The moon?"

Alec takes my hands in his. "Your memories are so vivid," he murmurs, awe in his voice. "I hardly remember my life as a human."

I smile at him. "He took me everywhere. When we were living in Europe, we'd go to Paris, Milan, Moscow, Berlin, Lisbon, and Barcelona in one week. And then the next week, we'd tackle Budapest, Prague, Amsterdam, Madrid, and Rome. It was amazing. We were on the run, sure—but that was also our excuse for never staying in one place. My mom especially loved it; she hadn't even been out of the United States before she married my dad. But my dad—oh, he spoiled me so much when I was younger. I would just see him looking at me and I knew: I was the luckiest girl in the world. He loved me more than anything, even my mom—he still does, I mean."

Alec pauses before responding. He quotes, "I was their plaything and their idol, and something better—their child, the innocent and helpless creature bestowed on them by Heaven, whom to bring up to good"—he kisses me on the nose—"and whose future lot it was in their hands to direct to happiness or misery, according as they fulfilled their duties towards me."

"Frankenstein?" I ask.

He nods. "I hated that novel."

I can't help but laugh. "I feel like I've been going on forever."

"Not at all!" he exclaims. "I love to hear about your childhood. I want to know every single thing, angel."

I purse my lips. "When I'm upset, the only thing I eat is peanut butter and Oreos." Alec laughs. "No, I'm serious. I was the only person in the house who ate actual food—aside from the wolves, but they eat everything—so I pretty much got free reign when we went grocery shopping. Alice would take me, and it would be like shopping for me. I had to grab _everything. _But I was such a picky eater that I was glad for the wolves; they ate everything I didn't. My mom and grandma are pretty good cooks, though, for being vampires, so they would put together entire feasts just for me—they watched Food Network and baked cakes and cookies and cupcakes. If I wasn't constantly growing and running around, I would have been a morbidly obese kid."

"Since my mother was a healer"—Alec tucks a strand of hair behind my ear—"she knew everything you had to know about herbs. One of my most vivid memories is of helping her collect plants in the woods—I remember being terrified even though I'd done it so many times before, and that she constantly had to steer me away from poisonous berries. Jane was much better than I was, but she didn't like to get dirty and tended to throw fits when we were younger. But whenever someone injured was brought to our home, I would always disappear into the bakery with my father, and Jane would stay to tend wounds. She was much better at that than I was, too." He shakes his head and smiles, as if someone said something funny. "I could never stomach the blood. It seems stupid to me now, though."

I grin, remembering something. "When I was a baby—I mean, for the first few months of my life—my grandfather was always trying to get me to have baby formula. I absolutely _hated _the stuff. I mean, have you ever smelled it? It's awful. I was out hunting with my parents and Jacob before I was six months old. I was only drinking blood; I didn't eat anything. It was—this is how my grandpa described it—like a baby with milk. Infants barely have food; they have bottles. And then I sort of grew out of it, like I grew out of having hard skin. The older I got, the less vampire I was." I look up at him. "I'm not really one at all anymore, am I?" I hold out my arms, battered and bruised. "Not one has healed since yesterday." I let out a breath. "Well, I'm not aging. That's something."

"Are you worried about this, angel? If you are, I can contact your grandfather—"

"No, no. It's fine. If something was wrong, he would have noticed yesterday." I kiss his fingers. "No worries, Alec. I promise."

"If you're sure." He sounds doubtful, looks concerned.

I smile at him. "I'm absolutely sure."

I ditch the sling by the end of the week, but my shoulder stays stiff. I roll it every few hours—forward, back, forward, back—but I don't use it for anything. I don't use any part of my body for anything, actually. The only time I get out of bed is to shower, which requires the help of Alec . . . not that I mind. He's seen me naked before, and I'm sure he'll see me naked time and time again. I'm too sore to do anything but kiss him briefly, and there's nothing romantic about him helping me in and out of the shower. He mostly sits on the toilet next to the shower, the curtain drawn only part-way, and hums or tells me stories.

Aro doesn't visit me, and either does Demitri or Felix. Alec surprises me with bubble bath on that Monday, and he sits on the floor next to the tub. The curtain stays open.

He's oddly quiet, so after a few minutes I scoop up a handful of bubbles and blow them on him. It startles him so much that he leaps up, and I can hardly contain my laugher. He scowls at me, but his eyes are laughing.

"_A_-lec," I groan. "You're so moody today."

He shakes himself. "Moody," he repeats, almost testing out the word. I wonder if anyone's every said it to him before. "Sorry, angel. Just thinking."

I frown. "Stop thinking, then. Come in with me. This is a pretty _big _tub, if I say so myself." I smile and wink. When he shakes his head I pout. "Come _on, _Al. I won't jump you, I promise. I couldn't if I wanted to." He looks tempted, and I can see in his eyes that he wants to. And that he doesn't trust me, or himself—or maybe both. Which is understandable. He hesitates, and then takes off his shirt. I laugh as he almost trips out of his pants, nearly face-planting into the toilet. I make a face when he stops with that.

I look away discreetly, because I know he'd want me to. He's seen me naked, sure, but I've never seen him naked. For some reason it seems more intimate; yeah, I've seen a naked man. And my uncle Emmett got me one of those really awful "all about sex" books for my third birthday. My parents were horrified. But it's different because it's Alec. I've never been uncomfortable about my body; my mom would always do her makeup in my bathroom while I showered, and we would chat while I got dressed. My dad was more private than my mom, especially once I developed . . . lady-parts. I asked him to take me to Victoria's Secret once and he was so freaked out he couldn't even form a coherent sentence. I remember his shock—_You wear bras? _

When he climbs into the tub, I watch his face. He sits across from me, his legs stretched out by my side. His toes reach my hip. He looks nervous. "Alec?"

He meets my gaze. "Yes, angel?"

"Have you had any other girlfriends?"

His eyebrows go up. Way up. "You're asking me this _now_?"

"Well, sure. I mean, we've never talked about it before. And I don't feel weird about it; I'm sure if I'd been alive for six hundred years I'd have quite a few suitors." I lift my leg from the water, glad I'd shaved last night. I touch the faucet with my toe, flip the handle forward, flip it back. The spurt of water startles Alec.

He's watching my leg, and while I know I'm pretty pale right now, I can also say I have pretty nice legs. I grin at him. "My face is up here." His eyes trail up my body, from my toes to my eyes. He only pauses briefly on my breasts, and I'm impressed. The bubbles only cover so much.

He doesn't look embarrassed. "You're absolutely stunning," he tells me, completely honest.

I can't help but blush. "Beautiful," I counter boldly.

"Ravishing," he clarifies.

My grin widens. "Tell me seriously," I say. "I want to know. I mean, you aren't a virgin, right?"

He looks ashamed, shaking his head.

"I figured as much." And while this is true—I really _had _figured as much—it doesn't make me any less nervous. _I'm _a virgin, obviously, and while I wouldn't mind making love to Alec, I'm definitely anxious about it. "Girlfriend? Wife?" I pause. "Prostitute?"

Alec scratches his nose. "Do I really need to—?"

"Alec, come on. Tell me. It was a prostitute, wasn't it?"

He clears his throat. If he were human, he would be blushing. "They were called harlots back then."

I snort. "Oh my god, you lost your virginity to a harlot in the fifteenth century. Okay, I can deal with that. Were you a vampire? Or a human?"

He licks his lips, looks up at the ceiling. "I was a vampire. She was a human."

I frown. My mom told me how having sex with my dad as a human had left her covered in bruises—that if he hadn't been gentle, she could have been seriously hurt.

"What happened to her?"

"This is why I wanted to avoid this conversation completely. Can we please not discuss this?"

"Alec, what happened to her?"

"She died, Renesmee. She died. I drank too much. I broke her ribs. Please, Renesmee—" I sit up in the tub and cup his cheeks in my hands.

"Alec, I love you. You can't be afraid to tell me things. I think I deserve to know, don't you?" I raise my eyebrows. He sighs but nods. "Is that the real reason why you won't make love to me?" I ask him. It sounds silly—_make love—_when I say it out loud, but he doesn't seem to mind. "Are you afraid to hurt me?"

He covers my hands with his. "I'm afraid of so many things, Renesmee."

I look down and pull my hands away, slowly moving back to my spot on the opposite end of the tub. "Like what?"

My foot is still out of the water, and he takes the soft loofah from the edge of the bathtub. He squeezes water from it onto my leg and I shut my eyes. "You're so breakable," he says softly. "Sometimes, I'm afraid to touch you. I have these . . . waking nightmares. You'll be asleep in my arms, and your life just . . . flashes before my eyes. I worry about crushing you." He takes a deep breath. "And your smell . . . the mere scent of you nearly drives me mad. You smell better than any human I've smelled in all my six hundred years. I'm terrified of not being able to restrain myself." I start to object, but he continues, "I'm much better now, definitely. Without a doubt. The thought of losing you is more difficult to stand each day, and I wouldn't be able to handle it if the loss were by my hands."

I purse my lips. "If I died, what would you do?"

He freezes, and I can see it in his eyes: the weight that the thought alone puts on his shoulders, the emotions running through his mind. His jaw hardens and I'm stunned again by his handsome features; high, strong cheekbones, straight nose, "Are you planning on dying anytime soon, Renesmee?" his voice is pained, and so is the question. I shake my head no. "Then please don't ask me to consider it."

"Alec?" I don't ask him again; I just dare him with my eyes.

His own eyes harden, darken, and I know I've instilled some sort of raw anger, passion, something. "I'd kill whoever did it. I'd tear them limb from limb. I'd make them suffer."

I let out a breath. "My mother is going to love you, just for saying that." I clear my throat. "But back to, you know, sex. Other than worrying about me being safe—which you shouldn't be worrying about, I swear—is there any other reason?"

"Well of course," he says, "the thought of you carrying a child, in this awful place, with Aro breathing down our necks . . . it makes me sick to my stomach. I can't stand the idea of putting you in danger like that, or risking the life of an innocent child. What he would do to him—how terrible their life would be—being unable to protect him—" He squeezes my knee. "It makes me sick, Renesmee," he says again.

I smile a little. "You're going to be such a great dad," I tell him, for the second time. "But until we're ready for kids—which, you know, shouldn't be for a while; I kind of want to be at least in the double-digits before all that—I'm always fine with condoms." I raise my eyebrows at him. "Contraception. Beautiful."

Alec just frowns at me from across the tub, his dark eyes narrowed and calculating. "I'll consider it."

I grin. "One point for Renesmee." His frown stays in place. I bring my foot just in front of his face, waggle my toes. That gets a smile. "I hate it when we're like this."

"Like what?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Like my _parents._ You worry even more than I do."

"And what a good thing that is, considering my worrying has saved our lives many times before."

"Hey, I can definitely take care of myself, mister."

He watches me calmly. "Sure, angel. Of course." I send a tidal wave in his direction, and his exclamation of surprise makes me laugh. He's absolutely dripping with water, and so is the wall behind him. "I'm going to get you for that," he says, scooting forward.

"I distracted you, didn't I?" He shakes his head at me, but I can see the smile in his eyes. "Lie back," I tell him. He does, so that the only thing above water is his face and the tips of his toes. I move over to his side of the tub, and stretch my legs underneath his back. He stops floating and sinks back unto my bare thighs. He stays under water, and I know he doesn't need to breathe, but it makes me so nervous that I think to him, _Come up. _He raises his head. I take one of the pink sponges from the edge, and squeeze it out over his stomach. "I hate it when we're like that," I say again.

He considers this. "Why?"

I worry at my lip for a moment, rubbing his chest with the sponge, squeezing out the water onto his forehead. "Because the only time my parents don't seem to love each other is when they're like that." Alec reaches up and smooths out my forehead and the lines that have formed there.

"We need to worry sometimes," he says gently.

I sigh loudly. "I know we do. But you worry enough for the both of us, I think."

He laughs lightly, and the light in his eyes brightens my heart. "I do, don't I?"

I lean down to kiss him. "You do."

* * *

><p><strong><em>REVIEW! <em>Next chapter should be up by Monday night/Tuesday afternoon. Check out _Remembrance_, too. I just updated. _Please, REVIEW!_**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen **

The next week passes by in a blur. My bruises are all a faded yellow, and the only cut that hasn't healed completely is the one on my thigh. This, of course, means that full-on make out sessions are starting to become a regular occurrence, not that I mind. Baths are also starting to become more common, and a lot more fun than the first time. We try to be careful about when we do things—we figure out what times are more common for visits from Felix or Demitri, and we avoid them.

Eventually, Alec is forced to tell Aro that I'm healed and functioning. Pretending things we don't need to pretend isn't exactly the smartest move right now, and we both know it.

Tens of dresses are brought to my room that exact day, in every color and every style. There are a few more modest ones, but more often than not they are low-cut and short. Many of them are very girly, or very innocent-looking. I can't help but wonder what exactly it is that he has planned for me.

While I'm sorting through them all, Alec watching ruefully over my shoulder, I find a hand written note attached to a simple blue dress with a not-so-revealing neckline.

_Wear this one. I'll be by at nine o'clock. We have a late flight._

A flight? As in an airplane? Where is he taking me? I can only hope that Felix and Demitri are the "guards" he is planning on bringing, so I have some semblance of safety.

I hand Alec the note, and his jaw clenches as he reads it. "A flight," he repeats. "That's all he says. No destination, no hint as to what you'll be doing . . . This dress is much better than the others."

I sigh, turning back to the closet. Alec reaches forward and rests his hands on my hips. I lean back against his chest.

"Please be careful." His cool lips brush my neck. "Please, angel."

I turn my head to kiss him on the lips. His lips part slightly, inviting me in. Oh, how I love his invitations. His cool breath makes my head spin, his fingers creeping along the edge of my t-shirt making my heart race. He pulls back maybe an inch to laugh.

"You're so adorable," he whispers.

I raise my eyebrows before jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist. I'm just in my underwear, having been in the process of getting dressed, and his worn jeans are soft on my legs. He holds me up easily, his hands just below my butt. I move my lips to his again and I can feel his smile.

"Alec?" I say suggestively, and I can tell he knows what I'm asking by the way that his grip on me tightens and his back straightens.

"No," he says. "Not yet, okay?"

"Come _on_," I groan. "Why not?"

"Just not right now, angel."

"You promised."

Now his eyebrows shoot up. He sets me down on my feet. "No, I didn't."

I sigh. "I know you didn't."

Alec laughs a little. "You're so full of it."

"I thought it was worth a shot."

He kisses me on the forehead. "I do love you."

I lean into the kiss and smile. "I love you, too." I turn to walk to the kitchen and grab a bottle of blood, but Alec's arms snake around my waist.

"I don't want you to think it's because of you, that I don't want to."

I turn my head so I can look at him. "I don't think that."

"I'm just making sure. I want to, I do. I just don't think this is the right time."

I purse my lips and pat his cheek. "There's never a right time for something to happen, Al." I duck out of Alec's grasp and go into the kitchen. He follows me.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He looks upset.

I shrug, taking a bottle from the fridge and popping the lid. I set it on the counter. "It means that you can't spend forever waiting for the right time for things to happen. There's never a right time." I take a small sip. "I mean, if you'd caught me next year, or ten years from now, and we'd fallen in love then, we'd still be in the same situation. None of this would be any easier, would it?"

Alec runs his fingers through his hair, and leans against the counter. "No, it wouldn't be any easier," he admits.

"Exactly my point."

Alec frowns and walks to the other side of the kitchen. He pulls something from the cabinet there, and hides it behind his back too quickly for me to see what it is. "Don't be mad at me," he says.

I don't try to hide my confusion. "Why would I be mad at you?"

He sighs. "You're going to be mad at me."

And then he puts whatever it was he'd been hiding from me on the kitchen counter. Even with the foreign label, I can tell what it is.

"Condoms," I say plainly. "In my kitchen. How long have you been stashing condoms in my kitchen?"

He looks down at his bare feet, and then back up at me. "A little more than a month."

"And _why_ didn't you say something?"

"Because I knew you'd be mad at me."

"I'm not mad!" I exclaim. And then I stop, because I am mad, and the fact that I'm raising my voice proves it.

"You're mad."

"Yeah, I am. Just a little bit, though."

He shakes his head sheepishly. "I am really sorry I didn't say something sooner. I've just been having so much trouble wrapping my mind around it that I didn't want to say something until I was sure."

"And are you sure, now?"

"Not at all. I'm never going to be sure, I don't think."

I can't help the small smile that forms on my lips. "So does that mean . . ."

He sighs. "Yes."

"Say it out loud, please."

"Renesmee Carlie Cullen," he starts, in a quiet voice, "I promise to make love to you before your family rescues us."

I put my bottle on the counter and skip towards him, standing on my tip-toes to kiss his nose. "I love you!"

He sighs. "I know you do." He narrows his eyes over my shoulder a moment, and then says, "Under one condition."

I groan. "What now?"

"I can say no."

"Meaning . . ."

"Meaning that if you want to at two in the morning on the kitchen floor, I can say no. I promise before your family comes, but it can happen any time between."

"Why are we _planning _this?" I wrinkle my nose.

He laughs. "I'm trying to _prevent _you from planning it. That's the whole point. It should happen when it happens."

I let out a slow breath. "Fine."

He grins. "Fine."

"You kind of drive me crazy."

"And I'm glad of it."

Aro arrives at exactly nine o'clock, not a second before or after. This is the first time I've seen him without his robe and classic Volturi clothing; he's dressed in a suit, looking much like a business man, complete with a brief case. Demitri and Felix flank him, looking equally business-like. I feel like such a girl in the sweet blue dress Aro picked out for me, but I suppose that's the point.

"You look lovely," Aro says. "I especially like the blue with your skin."

I attempt to push down my nausea. Felix meets my gaze over Aro's shoulder, urging me to respond with his eyes.

"Thank you, Aro," I say, hoping my voice doesn't sound as shaky as I think it does.

"Of course, darling. Felix and Demitri will be accompanying us as your guards. You must always be near them, unless they are directed otherwise. It's a short flight, but we may be spending the night there." He gestures into my room, handing me a small black bag. "Pack whatever you'll need in the case that we do."

I do as he says, going inside to grab pajamas and a pair of sweatpants for the next day, plus a toothbrush and hairbrush. I go into the kitchen where Alec is sitting at the counter, feigning carelessness with a novel in his hands.

"Alec, my dear boy," Aro says, from outside the room.

Alec stands slowly, his actions bored and uninterested. But he looks at me before leaving the room, and I see it in his eyes—he's absolutely terrified.

They talk too quietly for me to hear, but I follow Alec's mind, sensing when he turns to leave. He must feel me there, because he's screaming in his mind, _Be careful! _

_I'm always careful, _I tell him.

I can feel his laughter from here.  
>_<p>

The plane ride _is_ short, and I stay as far away from Aro as I can. It's a private plane, though, and as far as I can get isn't far enough. Demitri and Felix stay by my side for the entire time, and I'm comforted by their protection. It's warm outside, and Demitri tells me it's July. I've been with the Volturi since February. It's been five months.

_Do you have any clue where he's taking us? _I ask Felix, and the slight tilt of his head tells me no.

Soon, we've arrived at our destination, not that I'm exactly sure where that is. The weather hasn't changed much; if anything, it's warmer. Felix leads me down the stairs, and the heat seems to radiate from the paved runway although the sky is dark and clear. The runway is surrounded by fields of green, sloping hills, and there is no airport in site.

Aro pulls me aside. "We are here to question a man. _You _are here to ensure that he tells no lies, and that he answers my inquiries. No matter what, you do _exactly_ as say. Can you do that, my dear?"

I swallow hard. "And the dress?"

His eyes twinkle. "Men like beautiful women. Even poor farmers."

And then the light in his eyes is gone, his expression darkening. He squares his shoulders and straightens his tie. "Felix, Demitri. Stay by her side, please. We'll be walking to the house from here."

The two men come to stand next to me, each placing a strong hand on my arm. We make our way into the tall grass, Felix and Demitri maneuvering me through the area. Aro is about fifty feet ahead of us, still in hearing range. We keep a steady pace and reach a narrow stone house soon, perched on the slanted side of a hill. The door is open, Aro standing in the doorway.

When Aro said man, I'd still thought _vampire. _But this man is human, maybe in his fifties, with skin darkened from the sun and laugh lines in the corners of his eyes. He's half the size of Aro, and a small woman stands behind him. His wife?

They're talking in rushed Italian, and the man is not laughing now. Either is his wife, who soon turns around and walks further into the house, possibly at the orders of her husband. The poor man spots me over Aro's shoulder, and he suddenly looks furious. I peer into his mind, which is open and friendly and kind, and his anger is apparent. He's angry at Aro, but I can sense it has something to do with me. Does he know that I am here against my will?

Aro reaches behind him and clasps his hand around my wrist, pulling me up next to him. My hair is loose around my shoulders, and although I know I am incredibly pale, I know I am beautiful. My hair shines in the light from the house, and my cheeks are pink from the heat. The dress is working its magic. I smile briefly, and I know he is affected by my beauty. It pains me to see it.

"My dear Renesmee," Aro says quietly. I can see that this kind man doesn't speak English, doesn't understand what it is he's saying. "Stay by my side, darling."

The man's expression darkens but he turns around and leads us into his home. We sit around a large wooden table, and I clench my teeth when Aro has me sit next to him.

Aro proceeds to argue with the man, spitting out accusations. I don't follow anything, but I can see the man cower away from Aro's anger.

Felix nudges me after of few moments, and leans over to whisper in my ear. "I know you don't understand what they're saying, but it's important that you look in his mind. We need to know if he's lying."

I do as he says, focusing on the man's emotions as he speaks. Fear. Anger. Concern. But he's definitely being honest. He's confused. He doesn't know what they're talking about. I turn to Aro and say, "He doesn't know anything. He has no idea. Please stop."

Aro clenches his teeth a moment, his eyes bright red. And then his face transforms into an incredibly cruel smile, his eyes going blank. "Grazie per il tuo aiuto." _Thanks for your help._ And then he adds something else. They both move to stand, and the man leads us out a back door.

We follow him down the hillside, and he leads us to a patch of pale gray-green plants. He gestures wildly as he explains something, and Aro nods thoughtfully.

Aro says something sharply, and the man nods hastily. "Si, si," he says. "Domani?"

Aro nods, too, and holds out his hand for the man to shake. The man hesitates a moment, but takes it. I watch the gooseflesh form on his tanned arm from the cold touch. As we turn to leave, he meets my eyes. I search his mind. He's worried for me. He wants me to run.

I purse my lips and shake my head no.

The man swallows but nods, and stands there to watch us leave.

I jog to catch up with Aro. "What was that about?" I ask him. I stand in front of him and put my hands on my hips.

"Fiesty, aren't you?" he says, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "None of your concern."

I shake my head. "You want me to help you; I should know what it is I'm doing. Was that whole thing about a _plant?_"

Aro's lips are a thin line. "Yes, a plant," he says finally. Felix and Demitri are watching our conversation warily. I can see that Felix is begging me to stop, not to cause problems for myself, but I can't help myself.

I narrow my eyes. "What kind of plant?"

"Now, darling, I suggest you mind your own business. Can you do that?"

I clench my teeth but nod.

"And you're sure he was telling the truth?"

"I'm positive."

Aro looks thoughtful. "How strange." And then he steps around me and continues walking back towards the plane.

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><p><strong>I'm so incredibly sorry for taking this long to update. I'm currently living in SOUTHERN ITALY as an EXCHANGE STUDENT so as you can imagine, I've been sort of busy. Hopefully this chapter can keep you satisfied until I get back in the swing of things. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my lovely readers, or about my stories. I'll be posting regularly soon. If you want to hear more about my high school exchange, go to www(dot)leahsharaby(dot)blogspot(dot)com.<strong>

**Review, please, if you aren't too angry with me. Grazie mille!**


	15. Chapter 15

**This chapter is dedicated to Seph Meadowes. You know why. And you know you're my favorite person ever. **

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><p><strong>Chapter Fifteen<strong>

We make similar trips during the rest of the week. We stay within Italy, sometimes spending the night depending on how long it takes, but I'm sure it's just about time until he takes me out of the country. Alec is incredibly concerned by the whole thing, as he knows even less about it than I do. Felix and Demitri have to know something, but whatever they do know they aren't sharing. I don't do anything but lie-detect, but every one of the men—all of whom farmers, most of them living modestly—is telling the truth. They all have the same plant growing in their fields, but none of them seem to know what it is. It looks like a weed—and it grows like a weed, in the midst of other plants and vegetables, making its way through hundreds of yards of grains, flowers, and crops. At the end of each "interview," Aro proceeds to ask the men to gather all of the plant that they can find, and have it ready to be picked up the following day.

Each day, when we return home, I show the conversations to Alec for him to translate. I pay close attention although I don't understand, because Alec does. The general conclusion is that Aro spends over an hour asking different farmers about when this plant appeared, where it came from, if anyone had approached their fields since they'd notice it growing, if they had tried to consume it, and the like. He never says what the name of it is, so we don't have much to go on.

"I just don't understand what he could possibly want with a _weed_," I say to Alec. "I mean, unless it's some kind of _drug _that he's planning on dealing . . ." I trail off at Alec's exhausted expression. Neither one of us is in the mood for laughing.

Alec just shakes his head. "We'll figure it out eventually, angel. It must be important, though, for him to be taking all of this time to gather it up and ask all of these people about it."

I reach up and kiss him on the cheek before collapsing back onto his chest.

"I miss you," he says, after a pause.

We're getting a lot less time together now, with me running around with Aro constantly, and him taking the place of Felix and Demitri whenever they're busy. I take his hand in mine and hold it to my chest, just above my heart.

"I love you," I say.

He kisses my temple. "I love _you._" He holds his lips there a moment, and then says, "Things will get easier. Eventually, things will get better for us. They have to." He laces the fingers of his other hand with mine, rubs his thumb along my knuckles.

Soon, we fall into a routine. I leave for a few hours every day with Aro and my lovely guards, and when I return I see Alec long enough for a quick kiss. Every few nights, Alec makes it back from whatever errand Aro has him on just in time to say goodnight and lay with me in bed for a few hours. There's a ton of making out, and a lot of times we come pretty close, but never close enough. And I'm fine with it. Most nights, I'm too tired to do much, and even though vampires don't sleep, Alec is drained mentally when he returns, content to just put his arms around me and whisper back and forth.

One day, after being out in the sun all day in a three farmers' fields down south, I'm so exhausted that I fall asleep before Alec comes back. The sound of him climbing into bed wakes me up, and I half-open my eyes to look at him. I place a hand on his chest.

"Hey," I say, tiredly. "You okay?" He doesn't respond. I sit up all the way and flip on the light next to my bed. "Al?" I say, concerned. He's looking up at me through heavy lidded eyes, his forehead creased.

"Yeah," he murmurs. "I think so, yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"My head just . . . _pounds_. I don't know, angel. I'm sure it's not a big deal. Go back to sleep."

I look at him incredulously. "Alec, are you crazy? You have a _headache_? And you're not at all concerned?"

Alec narrows his eyes against the light, wincing slightly. "It's fine," he murmurs.

"Alec!" I exclaim. I switch off the light and cup his face in my hands. He grips my wrists tightly. I reach into his mind gently, swiftly, and am surprised to find it wide open, for the entire world to see. _Al . . . _I whisper in his mind. _What's going on?_

I fumble through crowded thoughts and am uneasy by a heavy fog that seems to be seeping in through the edges. I manipulate it to the best of my abilities, holding it back and pushing it as far as I can.

His hands loosen their grip on my wrists, his face relaxing in my hands. I slowly pull out, watching to make sure the fog stays put. _Better? _I ask gently.

He nods slightly, letting out a relieved breath. "Better," he sighs. I let my hands fall from his cheeks and he scoots over to lay his head in my lap. I rub his temples slowly. "What was it?" he asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

I shake my head. "I don't know. It was weird. Like this cloud of . . . something. Making your mind all fuzzy. It's still there. I just . . . pushed it away."

"Fuzzy," he repeats. "Painful. I've so rarely felt physical pain . . . it's incredibly strange."

I still my fingers on his temples and brush my lips on his forehead. "What could've caused it?" I ask anxiously. "It definitely seemed supernatural."

Alec swallows and shakes his head slowly. "I have no idea. I'm fine now, though." He sits up, as if to prove his point. He holds up his arm, gesturing for me to curl up against his side. You don't have to ask me twice, I think, and tuck my head under his chin. He wraps his arms around me tightly. "Go to sleep," he whispers.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" I murmur into his chest.

"No, angel. I'm sorry. I've got to go in an hour."

I groan. "I hate this. I seriously hate this, Al."

Alec rubs slow circles into my back. "I know you do. I do, too. I'm just so incredibly _tired_."

There's an uncomfortable silence as he realizes what it was that he just said.

"Alec—"

"I don't know why I said that." I look up at him nervously, watching his confused expression and the line between his eyebrows.

"Alec, what's going on? Is something—"

"I don't _know_," he exclaims. "I don't _know _what's going on. Something's not right, though. Because I _am _tired. I'm exhausted." And he looks it. Although his eyes are a dark brown—he's been feeding—he still has dark circles under them. He looks awful. He shakes his head against the thoughts as I'm watching him and climbs out of the bed. "I'm going to take a shower. I need . . . to wake up."

"A _shower_? Al—"

He shuts his eyes briefly against some foreign pain. "Go to sleep, Ness. Please. You need to wake up early tomorrow to go with Aro."

"Alec—" He shuts the bathroom door. I jump off of the bed and rest my forehead against the door. "Alec, _open this door. _Stop cutting me off. We need to _talk _to someone about this—"

The door opens and I almost fall, face-first, into Alec. He grips my arms to keep me standing. "I'll talk to Marcus tomorrow. I promise." He kisses me once, softly. "Go back to bed?" he pleads. "Renesmee, please."

I sigh and stand up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Okay, hon. Fine. Wake me up when you leave?" I ask, but it's pointless. I know he won't.

The next few weeks continue the same way. Alec has strange, random occurrences of crippling exhaustion and aching migraines. I try not to worry too much, but Alec never talks to Marcus about it and I can never seem to find him myself.

Aro keeps up his strange process of plant-hunting. I'm convinced he's drug dealing. Alec turns the idea down each time. It's the last week of August, and I've been to nearly every country in the European Union by way of Aro's private plane, with trusty Demitri and Felix by my side.

At this point, I've finished every book in my room. I'd been taking them on the airplane with me, as something to do, and I'd read all of them without realizing. Aro gives me a key to his personal library, five times the size of my bedroom itself, and although I despise him I have to admit I'm grateful. Out of mere curiosity, I start to pick up old books about folklore and myths—19th and 20th century stuff for the most part. I try to read Dracula, mostly because it irritates Aro, but it turns out to be incredibly boring. I take about ten books at a time, keep them in a stack on my bedside table, and return them all when I'm finished.

I also take a few books on botany. When Aro asks me why, a strange twinkle in his eye, I tell him I've decided to take up gardening. The next time I go to the library, the entire section has been cleared out. Since I'm such a clever person, I leave the one book I'd had with me on the empty shelf with a note in it reading _I know you're a drug dealer. And I'm okay with that. _

He doesn't say anything about it, but the book is gone the next day. I can only guess he got the note. Or the message behind it—that I know he's up to something serious.

A helicopter takes us from Volterra to the airport each time, and I'm used to getting to the roof myself by now. Aro has "better things to do" then coming to get me at my room each day. So I know how to get to the landing pad myself, where Aro, Felix, and Demitri are always waiting at the designated time. That's why I'm surprised when, one day, Alec is waiting with Felix. I hadn't seen him since the day before, and I have to fight to keep my expression merely confused when I see him there.

"Where's Demitri?" I ask Felix. Aro hasn't arrived yet.

Felix shrugs. "Nobody knows." He doesn't seem too concerned, so I figure I shouldn't be either. I glance briefly at Alec, and he winks at me whilst keeping his expression straight.

_What's going on? _I ask him.

I search his mind for his response, and it comes clearly. _No idea. Aro had Renata come and get me after morning feeding._

I glance at his eyes, find them to be their normal dark-red brown. Good thing they're taking a while to turn gold, otherwise you'd wonder what was going on.

_I wasn't hungry_, he says, jokingly.

I roll my eyes and move to stand next to Felix. _Shut up_.

Aro arrives shortly, his eyes briefly moving from me to Alec—enough to show that choosing Alec to take Demitri's place wasn't a random. I try not to let it show on my face, but I'm worried. Extremely worried.

The trip is quick, so I can only assume he found another poor Italian farmer to pester. It's insanely humid out today, but for the most part the meeting goes much like all of our others. Alec remains impassive for the entire time, and I can only hope he caught something that I never have before so we could at least stop worrying about Aro and this stupid plant.

Soon, we return "home." Aro hurries off to some other meeting, like the busy vampire criminal he is, and by some unspoken agreement Felix, Alec, and I walk back inside together. Felix leads the way, bringing us to an area that I've never been to before.

He looks around very suspiciously before pulling open a tall, heavy-looking wooden door. Marcus is standing at a desk in the center of a round room, the walls lined with thick, old-looking books. This must be _his _library then. For some reason it had never occurred to me that Marcus and Caius would have them, too.

Marcus turns to face us, his expression grim. Alec is standing next to me, shoulders stiff and back straight. Felix is watching us, looking incredibly frustrated.

"What's going on?" I ask, when nobody says anything.

Marcus looks at me, his bright red eyes as frightening as ever. "The two of you aren't being careful. In fact, you're being extremely care_less._"

Alec looks alarmed. "What are you—Marcus, we're never even seen together."

"That's not the point. You don't come out with us anymore," Felix adds. "You never attend our feasts. You don't dine with us. The only time you leave that room is when Aro specifically asks you to." He looks between us tiredly. "I _know_, and I still think it's incredibly strange. Think of how it must look to everyone else."

Marcus clears his throat, and the three of us turn to look at him. He's leaning against the large mahogany desk, his right hand resting on the back of the massive chair. "It's going to turn out to be a problem," he says in his accented, quiet voice. "Aro may be ignorant, but he is not stupid. If he doesn't have an idea already, he will soon."

Felix is shaking his head. "Everyone talks about it. Right now there's just speculation—nobody truly believes it's possible—but they know the two of you must be up to something. Even your sister has been asking questions."

Aro looks stricken. He steps away from me, over to the massive window overlooking the city. He stands there quietly, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, for a few uncomfortable moments. Then he turns to Marcus. "What should I do?"

He doesn't so much as glance in my direction. I notice the _I. _Clearly, he doesn't think I'll be doing something to help our situation.

I cross my arms. "Al, whether you want to admit it or not, we're in this together."

He doesn't seem to hear me. Or maybe he's just not listening. "Marcus, _what can I do?_"

Marcus doesn't respond, and I can see in his eyes what he won't say aloud. "It can't be too late," I argue. "There has to be _something_ we can do."

Even Felix doesn't try to agree with me, or look hopeful. "I'm sorry," he says, looking between us. "But I truly think the only option you have is the obvious one." He sighs and squeezes Alec's shoulder. "I need to get going." He glances at me briefly and then hurries from the room, shutting the large wooden door behind him.

Marcus stands his ground. "Your best bet would be some sort of distraction. Keep his attention away from the situation. Don't suddenly stop going to her room, because that would be more suspicious than anything. Slowly withdraw. Start making more social appearances. Volunteer to go on any sort of mission for Aro."

"And me?" I interrupt. "What do I do?"

"You do absolutely nothing," Marcus presses. "Sit there and look pretty. Continue to help with that new silly obsession of his. Don't do anything differently."

"You seriously want me to do nothing?" I look at Alec. "That's not fair. I can't just sit on my—"

"You can, and you will," Alec says firmly. "Marcus is right. That's the only way you can be safe."

My jaw drops and I lose my voice momentarily. "Alec," I sputter, "I won't—"

He cuts me off again. "Yes, you will! Don't you _dare_ argue with me about this, Renesmee!" he shouts, and his tone is like a slap in the face.

He must see it in my pinched expression, my filling eyes, because he's almost instantly horrified. He tries to reach out for me, but I cringe away. He freezes, his eyes wide and guilty. I'm not sure if I'm angry or hurt or scared, so I decide I'm all three.

Marcus looks at Alec a moment, and shuts his eyes briefly as if in pain.

"Renesmee, dear," he says softly. "Return to your room, will you?"

He says it kindly, and I know he's giving me my way out of this room, out of this conversation, away from Alec. I take my chance and leave the room in tears, slamming the door shut behind me. It clangs normally, heavily, and not as dramatically as I'd been hoping. Everyone who walks by me seems confused—whether by the fact that I seem to have pretty much free reign, walking around alone, or because I'm crying. I'm guessing it's mostly the latter, because the first has been going on for a while. It takes me about twenty minutes to resituate myself and figure out how to get back to my room, but when I arrive Alec still isn't there.

I collapse onto the bed, but I've stopped crying.

"I need to do _something_," I say aloud, angrily. But what can I do? What's our biggest problem, really?

Time, I decide. Time and Aro finding out. Because if Aro finds out, then we're out of time. If Aro finds out, we're screwed. If he doesn't find out, it's only a matter of time before he _does _find out, especially if our behavior is as suspicious as Felix seems to believe.

I groan and get up to make myself a sandwich, which makes me think of Alec. But I don't want to think of Alec, not now. I'm too upset with him. I immediately sink back down onto the bed. _Think_, Renesmee. _Think!_

How can I get more time? _How_? And then I think of the last thing that happened, the thing that gave me _time _before Aro forced me to run his stupid errands with him.

I need an injury. I need a serious, dangerous injury. And I need it _now. _

But what about Alec? I can't do something stupid without fixing things with Alec. I'm not mad, I decide. I'm hurt. I'm upset. But I'm not mad. That's easier to deal with. Sort of. And since I can guarantee I'm going to end up doing stupid, I should probably talk to him first.

My prayers are answered when, moments later, the door slowly opens. I know he would knock if he could—but anyone who walked by would be suspicious.

"Ness?" Alec says quietly. He shuts the door behind him and switches on the light, which I forgot to do before.

I'm clenching the sheets in my hands, my eyes itchy from crying, my cheeks wet with tears.

"Ness, angel, I'm so sorry," he murmurs, coming to stand in front of me. He cups my cheeks in his hands, rubbing away my tears with his thumbs. "I can't believe I spoke to you like that. I'm so disgusted with myself—I love you so much. Please forgive me."

I smile a little, but my eyes are filling. _What am I going to _do_? _"I forgive you."

He looks surprised. "You do?"

"Of course I forgive you." And then I reach over and hit him, although I know it won't exactly do much.

He nods. "I deserved that."

I raise my eyebrows. "Yeah, you did. Can I do it again?" _What am I going to do?_

"No, you definitely can't." But he smiles a little as he says it, and I know he's just glad that I'm not yelling at him. He kisses me on the forehead. "God, you stink," he teases. But I am sweaty. And gross. "I have to go. But I'll be back tonight, I promise."

And then suddenly, I know exactly what I'm going to do.

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><p><strong>Sorry if this one wasn't as exciting as you all hoped. Prepare yourself, though, because things are about to get crazy. Next chapter up soon. <strong>


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

The first thing I do is write him a note, just a few sentences, the sort of thing that dramatic people do in books in movies. I tell him the important things. That I love him. That I don't want to hurt him. I want to leave it next to me, something to tell him that I don't want to die, that I'm doing this to help us, but I can't. If someone else finds it, we're done. Screwed. And I don't want to be doing this for nothing. I can only assume that he has faith in what we feel for each other, that he's what really matters to me. I can only hope that he knows me well enough to look in the book.

In the bathroom, I dig through all of the cabinets and drawers, taking out anything that I would qualify as being "sharp." I try not to look at myself in the mirror—for some reason, I feel like it would just be the end of me. To look at myself before I do it.

When I'm done with what I thought would be a futile search, I realize that I'd come up with four, pink, unused razor blades, a tiny pair of silver scissors, and an inch-long shard of some sort of glass which was sharp as hell. Not too bad, I suppose. Any of the three would do. Right?

Finally, I allow myself a quick glance in the mirror—I look like my mother the most, I think. How weird. My dad always told me so, and my grandpa, but I'd never really seen it as much as I do now, probably because I was always with my mom when they said it. I see my dad, too—his hair, his cheekbones. My heart sinks. I miss them.

I try and go off of this, staring at a razor (it seems the most sanitary of the three), wondering if my depression over the loss of my family will be enough of a drive to get me to really do it. Because I don't want to. And it's stupid. I know it is. But we need time. And I can't waste anymore of what we have thinking of other options.

I think about my mom—her sweet voice, her gentle hands, holding me. How she's always been here, even if not always in the way that I needed her to be, more of my friend than my mother. I think about my dad—my amazing, fantastic father, who taught me how to play the piano when I was less than a year old (although I looked and acted about four), and later on how to play the guitar. Who wrote a song for me, on that same piano where he taught me how to play. It made me cry every time he played it, and when we had to leave the piano at our house in Washington, it made me cry even harder. I think about how he always let me sit in his lap, even when I was too old to—how he'd sit with me for hours, rubbing my back, humming my song, when I couldn't fall asleep. I think about how he is my best friend.

And then I think of Jacob. Jacob, my imprintee. How would he feel? Would he know it, when I dragged it across my wrists? I feel bad for him—why did he have to imprint on me? I love him to death, I do, but . . . not the way I know he wishes I would. I wish he would find someone, after I'm gone—find someone who loves him as much as I love him, as much as I know he loves me, but who loves him in the right way.

I slide down against the bathtub, the very same bathtub that holds so many happy memories for me, a razor in my hands. For the longest moment of all, I think of Alec. I think of his smile—secretive, unique, crooked . . . wonderful.

His eyes. His cheekbones. His tattered boots. His dark wavy hair. The way that he looks at me, like I'm something special. The ease to our relationship, no matter what's going on outside that door; that comfortable feeling that never leaves the air between us; our light and easy banter. The fact that I've been waiting to feel the way I feel with him for my entire life, ever since I was a little girl.

Everything about him, everything he ever said to me, the sensation of his lips on mine—all of that is going through my mind in this moment. I think of how he calls me angel, and I wonder if that is, really, what I am to him. His angel. I know he'll always be mine. My heart breaks at the thought of all of the things I should have told him last time I saw him, how I should've savored that last kiss, made it last longer.

I may not be doing this for the reason Jasper wanted me to—I really don't want to die. I'm not suicidal. Even Aro, and the way he's been controlling me lately; none of that is awful enough to make me really _want_ to do this. I may be stuck here, but . . . Alec. He's the most important thing right now. I need to buy us time, and this will do that. I'm hoping Aro will give me time to recoup, and that Alec is the one who finds me, as terrible as that would be for him.

And then I curse myself for being so dramatic. _You're not going to _die, I think. _Just do it already._

So I pick the razor back up—and I close my eyes for a second, letting a slow breath out my nose. But I can only draw this out for so long before Alec comes back to the room, so I force my eyes open, force myself to watch as a hand I, for some reason, no longer believe to be mine, drags the razor across the pale white skin of my left wrist. I watch, fascinated, not quite feeling the pain yet, as something red blossoms to the surface, forming something that reminds me of the Christmas tree skirt that my mom made for the cottage—white, with red ribbon weaved through in swirly, imperfect designs.

The pain hasn't hit completely yet, and the next wrist is easier—I have an idea of what it's like, and I'm not so afraid anymore. I've accepted it, almost. I knew it was going to happen in the beginning, that it had to happen for my sake, for the sake of everyone else—I may be doing it for a different reason now, but it probably would have happened without him. Without Alec.

And then the world starts fading around me, and suddenly I feel completely different—I'm falling through the stars, and I'm weightless. It's quiet. A shooting star swims in front of my eyes, and the black sky is rippling, the stars shaking and bursting and blooming, like the surface of the tiny pond out back of the old cottage, my mom's shining eyes as she looks at me. When I was little, I used to wonder what it would be like to be a meteor. Now I know. You fall and fall and fall until you can't believe that you haven't hit the ground yet, and then you break through the clouds.

_Heaven._

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><p><strong> Sorry it took so long for something so short. And sorry that I, unlike Ness, like to be dramatic. But this was also one of the first things I wrote when I started this story, so it's been a long time coming . . . Hope I didn't crush your dreams. Next chapter up soon. Since it's written already. I just need to remember to put it up. Review if you feel like yelling at me. <strong>

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	17. Chapter 17

**Thanks for all the reviews! :) Here's me, updating, like all of you asked!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Seventeen<strong>

The first thing I see, when I finally come to, is Alec, his head bent over our joint hands, his eyes shut. I watch him for a moment through heavy-lidded eyes before feebly squeezing his hand.

He almost jumps with surprise. "Angel?" he murmurs, relief flooding his expression. He tightens his grip on me, letting go with one hand to cup my cheek. "How are you feeling? Does anything hurt?"

I let my eyes slip shut briefly.

He panics, both of his hands flying to my face and leaning over me as much as he can without climbing onto the bed. "Angel!"

I wave him away weakly. "I'm fine, I'm fine. I'm just tired."

He lets out a heavy breath. I open my eyes again. Alec's eyes are darker than I have ever seen them, and they are watching me. The relief is quickly leaving his expression. "How could you, Renesmee? How could you do this to me?" He looks wild, his hair messy and tangled, unwashed, hands shaking. "Do you know how this has affected me? Do you have any idea?" He tears a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, and I know that, if he were to open it, my handwriting would be there. "If I'd known what you were thinking . . . Renesmee, I would have found a way sooner. I would have tried harder. You didn't need to do this, Renesmee." My heart shatters at the look on his face, at the fact that I did this to him, I put him here.

The anger is slowly fading from his eyes, leaving him miserable, tired, and beaten up. "I don't understand, Renesmee," he whispers, his voice catching. "I don't understand how you could do this to me." He swallows hard, runs his hands through his hair. "Don't you know how important you are to me?" He falls silent, looking younger and more vulnerable than ever. "Didn't you know that I would find you?" he whispers. His voice is shaky, pained. "Lying there, in your own . . ." he trails off. "I don't think I can ever forget that, as long as I live."

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, watching him sadly. "I had to do something, Alec."

He shakes his head sharply. "No. No, you didn't. I love you, Renesmee. I would have handled it. I would have protected you, and I would have come up with a plan either way."

I tuck my hair behind my ears. "I know you love me. I love you, too. That's why I did it. I made a sacrifice. I couldn't sit and watch everyone else put themselves at risk without doing something myself. Especially after what happened in the library—nobody was going to _let _me help. Even if . . . even if I'd died, at least I would have died knowing that someone loved me. And that the rebellion was happening. That . . . things would get better."

"_Better_?" he exclaims. I can see the anger coming back, and it makes tears well in my eyes. "Renesmee, love, how could things get better if you were gone?"

"I'm sorry," I say again. I swallow through the dryness in my mouth. My tongue feels like cotton. "But I'm not gone." I put a hand on his cheek, hold it there.

Alec sighs and covers my hand with his own. "I know. I know, angel. I just . . . I was so scared. And I thought you _were _gone, when I found you. There was so much blood . . ." He squeezes his eyes shut, tightens his grip on my hand. "You were so pale . . ." He swallows hard and looks up at me. "I thought you really meant to die, until I found the letter. After that fight—what I said to you. I'm so sorry, Renesmee. I'm so, so sorry." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. "Rilke, huh?"

I nod, looking at our entwined hands. "Child in Red." I sigh. "I forgave you before, and you're still forgiven. Don't be sorry. I wanted to . . . I don't know, stick a note to my forehead or something. But I couldn't in case someone else found me."

Alec takes a deep breath and holds it a moment. "They gave you transfusions," he whispers finally. "It made you . . . smell different. Not like my Renesmee. And you were . . ." he puts a hand to my forehead. "You were _so_ _pale_. Cold. I don't think I can ever handle seeing you like that again." We're both quiet a minute. Then he says, "And your family hates me now."

I let out a soft laugh, semi-hysterical. "What? Where did you get _that_ from?"

"Your grandfather," he says. "Who do you think gave you the transfusions?"

"Is he here still?" I ask.

Alec nods. "Yes." He glances at the clock on my bedside table. "He should be here soon. He tends to come at certain times."

"And he told you my family hates you?"

"Yes, well, that was before I showed him the note and told him that this was all some crazy plan you had concocted. Which he then explained to the rest of your family, but they're adamant on the fact that I should have realized you were planning something." He kisses the palm of my hand. "It's fine. Your family doesn't have to like me."

"Yes, they do!" I exclaim. "I'm sure it's just my dad. He's very dramatic. Anyway, I'll clear things up no problem. How long have I been out, anyway?"

"Eleven days. You lost a lot of blood, and Carlisle kept you upped on pain meds, which kept you under. You were in and out the past few days, but never fully conscious." Alec brushes a kiss to my forehead. "Do you have any idea how miserable not talking to you for eleven days is?"

I laugh, but tears are clouding my eyes. "No. How miserable?"

Alec shakes his head, and kisses me on the lips for the first time since I've woken up. "_Very_ miserable." He rests his forehead against mine, his eyes fluttering shut.

I wrap my hands around his neck, holding him there. My fingers burrow in his hair. I try to ignore the thick bandages wrapped around my wrist, not wanting to think about the scars that are surely there. "Well, Al. I'm sure if I hadn't been all drugged up, I would have been very miserable, too."

Alec shakes his head again, looking very confused. "I still can't believe you did this, angel. You're crazy."

"Tell me it worked, at least," I say. "Is eleven days long enough to instill a rebellion?"

Alec smiles a little. "Apparently so."

"Yes! So tell me. What's the plan? What's been going on?"

"Well, Felix and Demitri helped. Nobody is really a fan of Aro as of present time, and it wasn't hard to sort of . . . spread the doubt. Most of the guard is prepared to fight against him, or die trying. We are very old, and nobody would regret dying after living for six hundred years." He must see the expression on my face, because he adds, "Aside from me, love. Anyway, so that part worked. And I've been talking to Marcus, and he believes that, if we can get out and help globalize the rebellion, we might end up becoming the faces of the whole thing."

I gape at him. "He thinks that everyone will believe we started it?"

"I suppose so, yes. We are the ones who brought it _into _the Volturi, angel."

"Awesome. I feel so . . . kick ass, in a world-saving kind of way."

Alec kisses me again, grinning wildly. "Also, your grandfather and I have been trying to get something going, talking to your uncles and your dad over the phone, figuring out how we can get out of here. Your parents are working to contact everyone who came and helped when you were a baby . . ." He trails off, looking away, and I know that this will always be difficult for him to think about. He twirls a curl around his finger a moment, kisses my nose. He clears his throat. "Anyway, we're contacting everyone, finding out who is willing to help get rid of Aro. So far, things are going well. The Denali coven is already in Santa Luce with your family and the entire shape-shifter pack as well. The Amazon coven, the Irish coven, and the Romanian coven are on their way here now, too. Your other grandfather—the human one—is completely freaking out, according to your mother. That one wolf—Jacob, your wolf—told him, I think, to spite me. Any matter, things are coming along well, for the most part."

I kiss him deeply, passionately. I get lost in the kiss, and we only stop when my IV starts tugging on my arm painfully. I'm breathless. "I love you," I whisper, running my fingers through his hair. "So much."

"I love you," he murmurs.

Just then—of course—the door creaks open. Alec jumps away from the bed, but it's just my grandfather. We both let out a breath.

"You're awake!" he exclaims, and walks over to the bed. He kisses my head, checks my pulse—which is racing—and looks to the beeping machines that have taken over my room. "Everything looks great, Ness." He turns to shake a finger in Alec's face. "_No_. What I walked in on: _not good. _If it had been someone else . . . now is _not_ the time." He takes a deep breath and looks back at me. "I was so worried. Thank goodness you're awake. Your parents have been . . . well, they've just about driven Alec and I crazy with their pestering." He looks at Alec again. "I assume you got her caught up with everything?" Alec nods. "Well, I just got off the phone with your uncle Jasper," he tells me, "and we're talking battle strategies."

I look between him and Alec. "Grandpa. Battle strategies? Since when are we going to battle?"

Alec clears his throat. "Sorry, love." He looks to my grandfather. "I hadn't quite gotten there yet, Carlisle."

"Sorry, son," he says. He lays a hand on Alec's shoulder, squeezing tight. I get the feeling that this isn't the first time the endearment of _son _has come up, or the shoulder squeezing. It makes me happy, to see them getting along. "Well, Renesmee. Getting the two of you out will not be as simple as we had hoped."

"What do you mean?" I ask cautiously. "Elaborate, please."

"Yes, yes. So what we were thinking was, once everyone who is helping us gets here—the Amazons, the Romanians, the Irish—we're going to prepare to fight. Alec has told Demitri of your relationship—although risky, it was necessary—and the two of them, plus Felix, are trying to decide the best way to come about this. But, what we are thinking is that we set a date. And we attack. That is, of course, in simple terms."

I look between the two of them. "_Attack_? You think you're going to attack the Volturi?"

Alec steps in, taking one of my hands in his own. "Angel, it's going to work. We haven't figured out the specifics, but if we can get most of the guard on board with overthrowing Aro, then your family, the wolves, and the other covens can get inside. We can kill Aro, and get out. Of course, there will be some aftermath that will need to be dealt with, and _someone _will have to remain in control somehow—making sure no one exposes us, for the most part—and we were thinking Marcus. He knows what he's doing, but he is opposed to the cruel things that Aro does, and to the killing. It seems the safest way to go."

I swear, my mouth is wide open. "_What_? And you think _I'm _crazy? Alec, honey—I trust you, and I trust my family. But this is _dangerous. _Members of the guard have powers, and . . . Alec, what about Jane? She is practically Aro's biggest fan! She—"

"I will handle my sister," he cuts in. "Don't worry about that. It's only a . . . minor detail."

I take my hand from his, and press my fingers to my temples. "Oh my god. You're both insane, and I'm getting a headache."

My grandpa sighs, and he shares a look with Alec. "Look, Ness. Don't worry about anything, okay? We'll figure everything out. You just sit there, get better, and _try not to kill yourself _again."

I glare at him. "I did _not_ try and kill myself."

Carlisle grows serious. "I know you didn't. It was incredibly dangerous, Renesmee. You came very close to dying."

"But it worked," I say.

"Yes. It worked." He tucks a curl behind my ear. "I love you, dear. I need to go, but I'll see you tomorrow morning." He looks at Alec. "_Watch her._"

Alec laughs. "I'll try."

Carlisle pats him on the shoulder. "Good luck, son."

After he leaves, I turn to Alec. "Did I wake up in an alternate universe?"

Alec bursts into laughter and climbs up onto the bed next to me, on the side without the IV. "I missed you, angel." I cuddle into his side.

"I'm scared," I say.

"Why?"

"What if you get hurt?" I ask, honestly.

Alec sighs loudly. "I'll be fine, love."

"Alec," I say. "I'm being serious. I don't know what I'd do if something happened."

"Angel, this is more my battle than any of your family, or the wolves, or any of the other clans. This is all me. I let so many things happen—I didn't even think twice about the things Aro and Caius did while they were doing them. I didn't think it mattered. And I need to make up for that; I need to help take him down. I need to, angel." He's looking at me earnestly with those eyes of his, dark because I'm sure he hasn't been feeding. And he's serious—I can tell. This is one of those things that ties into him almost killing me, and needing to make up for everything he's done in the past. I'm sure of it. So as much as it kills me, as much as my heart aches and stutters at the thought, I know I don't have any right to stop him or argue with him about it.

Instead, I lean against his chest, sighing heavily. I feel drained. Emotionally and physically.

I look at his hands on my lap and I notice him spinning a silver ring around his thumb. I look closer, noticing the eight-shaped pattern. "Infinity?" I clarify.

He grins, nodding. "It was a sort of a joke between Felix and me. We knew John Wallis when he was working for the Parliament—he invented the symbol. It meant more to us than it did in simple mathematics, being immortal." He twists it around his finger. "I'd lost it six months or so ago—the week you arrived, actually. Felix gave it to me last week, while you were out. Said he'd found it in his chambers."

I take his hand in mine, slipping the ring off his finger gently. I turn it over in my hands. On the inside, it says something in what looks like Italian. I ask Alec what it means.

He bursts into laughter. "That wasn't there last time I saw it. That bastard. He must've taken it." He rests his chin on my shoulder, looking down at the ring. "It says, _In bocca al lupo. _It means . . . literally, it means _Into the wolf's mouth. _In America—they say _break a leg_?" he asks.

I nod. "Yeah, it's like saying good luck, sort of."

"That's what it means in Italian. I'm not sure if he was trying to say that, or if he literally meant _into the wolf's mouth._" He waits for me to get it, and when I do I frown.

"That's not fair."

Alec shrugs. "That's Felix." He must see in my eyes how I'm still worried, because he adds, "I'll be fine. I promise you, Renesmee, that you and I will be safe."

"You can't promise that," I whisper, burrowing into his chest. "Nobody can promise that."

He presses his cheek to the top of my head. "I _can_ promise that. And I _do_ promise that." He kisses me on the forehead.

"I don't believe you."

Alec puts a finger under my chin and turns me to face him. "Renesmee Carlie Cullen. I promise to take care of you. I promise to get you out of here. I promise we'll be together." He kisses me sweetly. "_Now _do you believe me?"

"Maybe if we'd had sex. But that's not the case. So no."

Alec rolls his eyes and pulls me back down against his chest. "Just go back to sleep, love."

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><p><strong>I should update again on Monday. Another exchange student in a different town is coming to stay at my house this weekend, so I'm not going to have much time to write or post! Hope you enjoyed it!<strong>


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

Aro visits the next day. Alec is gone, Carlisle is off doing something, and I'm in bed by myself, trying to fall asleep.

"Darling Renesmee," he says, startling me from the sleepy haze that had finally crept in. "What on earth were you thinking?"

I glare at him. "Possibly that I don't like living here. That I miss my family. That I'm miserable."

Aro laughs. "Sounds a bit dramatic for my tastes. Nine months in this lovely city can't have been too awful."

_Nine months? I've been here _nine _months? _"Lovely city? What _lovely city_? All I see is the four walls of this room."

Aro smiles wryly and points to the half-wall that separates the kitchen from the bedroom. "Five walls, dear."

"Aro, if you don't mind, I'd really like to sleep. So please just tell me why you're here."

"Just thought I'd drop by . . . say hello. Let you know that I've been making progress."

"Progress with what?" I ask him, but I think I know what.

"Dealing drugs," he says, with a straight face.

He read my note, then. Definitely read my note. "Good for you," I tell him. "I hear there's a lot of money in the drug-dealing business. And it's not like anyone could arrest you."

Aro just winks at me, and holds up a bag I hadn't noticed before. "I wanted to bring by some light reading. You know, since your grandfather says you can't leave the bed for the next week or so."

"How thoughtful," I say.

"I thought so, too." He comes closer and lifts a stack of books from the bag, eight in total. He sets them down on my bedside table, which has been pushed against the wall to make space for all of the beeping and flashing machines. "I hope you enjoy them, dear."

Seeing as I can't exactly stand up and go look at what he brought me, I have to wait until Carlisle comes back for his nightly check in. I don't know when Alec will be back from whatever he's doing.

Carlisle comes at six, like clockwork. He goes to set a pile of papers on the bedside table, but finds the stack of books there. He glances over at me, holding up the one on top. "I didn't know you were interested in botany."

A slow smile forms on my face. "I didn't know I was, either."

Carlisle raises his eyebrows, looking confused. "Sure, Ness."

I just shake my head. "Can you bring those over to me?"

"Yeah, of course." He sets the stack down on the bed next to me, and I glance through them. _The Study of Botany. The Plant Encyclopedia. Faiths and Folklore: A Dictionary of National Beliefs. The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View. William Faulkner: A Collection. Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter. Miscellanies._

"Some of these are so random . . ." I look up at Carlisle. "Do you know where Alec is?"

He shrugs and comes over to check on my IV. "Not a clue." He glances at my wrists. "I need to change the bandages. Can you handle seeing them?"

I let out a heavy breath. "Will I have scars?"

"I'm not sure, honey. I hope not. But they may just be very faint."

I grimace. "I'm not going to look."

He nods. "That's fine, Ness. Just let me know when you're ready."

I hold out my hands for him and look up at the ceiling. "Go for it."

He does, and he does it quickly. Incredibly quickly. "There you go," he says. "And Alec's coming now. I can hear him down the hall."

The door opens a few moments later, and I look over happily. Alec grins at me. "Hey, sweetheart," he says, making his way to the bed. "I missed you today. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I guess. My head kind of hurts, but otherwise I'm just tired."

Carlisle nods. "It's from the blood loss. If you start to feel dizzy, let me know. That's not good."

I nod. "Al, Aro came by."

Alec looks irritated. "What did he want?"

I raise my eyebrows. "He brought _these _by," I say, gesturing to the books laid out next to me."

"Botany?" he asks me, looking over at them. "What would you—_Oh._ Why would he give these to you, though?"

I shrug. "Maybe he wants me to figure it out."

"But some of these are strange. Faulkner? _Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter_? Those have nothing to do with plants."

I bite my lip. "Maybe . . . maybe that's the point. There has to be something in common between all of the books, though, don't you think?"

Alec shrugs. "It's worth a try. Go for it. You have plenty of time, anyway."

I nod. "Do you think you can get me some highlighters from somewhere, though? And some pens? And some sticky-notes?"

Alec gives me a slightly crooked, slightly amused, smile. "Of course."

I look over at Carlisle, who's hunched over the bedside table, looking at the papers he brought with him. "Son, come over here," he says, and Alec does. "Do you see this?" he asks.

"No, I—_yes_. This is brilliant."

"It's all Jasper's idea. There's obviously some other things that we need to do, but I think this could work."

"Surely. I agree. But we need manpower for all of this—numbers. Everyone needs to know."

"Of course. We'll choose a date, and—"

"What the _hell _are you two talking about?" I exclaim.

They both look up at me, startled.

"Oh, nothing," Alec says. "Don't worry about it, angel."

"Are you _plotting_? Without _me_?"

They look at each other. "Well . . . yes," Carlisle says. "We all think it's best to keep you out of it."

I glare at them. "You mean my _father _thinks it's best."

Carlisle grimaces. "Well . . ." he starts again. "Yes."

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm going to kill that man."

Carlisle sighs. "I can talk to him, if you'd like. But if I don't keep you away from these, that man is going to kill _me._"

I roll my eyes. "You're practically his father. He wouldn't dare."

"This is just the drafting stage," Alec interjects. "I promise we'll tell you when we have solid plans."

"You're sure making a lot of promises, Al."

Alec smiles wryly and comes to my bedside, forcing all thoughts of battle plans from my mind. He leans down and brushes his nose against mine, his lips a mere breath away from my own. He's teasing me and I know it. When he finally goes for it, I'm ready, and I turn my head away so his lips meet my cheek. Two can play at this game.

I smile sweetly at him. "Go back to your little games with my grandpa. I wouldn't want to interrupt or _distract _you." I pick up one of the books from the bed. "I personally have some reading to do."

Alec just grins widely and kisses me sloppily on the forehead. "Love you, sweetheart."

I make a non-committal sound, and after that the three of us get to work; Alec and Carlisle on their planning, and me on the books, which turn out to be anything _but _light reading. I start with _The Plant Encyclopedia _because I figure that maybe, since I've seen it before, I'd recognize it in one of the pictures. But by the time I get to the F's, I have a killer headache. No dizziness, so I leave Carlisle and Alec to their hushed conversation.

After a few minutes of break, I dive into _Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter_, which seems the least like non-fiction out of the other seven books. It turns out to be about an eighteen year old student who falls in love with a thirty-two year old divorcee. Mario, an aspiring writer, works for a radio station that broadcasts live readings of novellas. I give up after reading a hundred pages; the words won't stay on the page, and I'm no longer interested.

"_Alec_," I groan, and he glances up at me from a stack of paperwork.

He holds up a finger. "One second, angel." He comes over to my side and runs a finger along my jaw. "How's it coming?"

I groan again. "It's _not _coming. And I have a headache." I glance over at one of the machines. "_And _it's past one o'clock in the morning."

Alec cups my chin in his hand. "Go to sleep, Renesmee. We have time. You know that. Don't torture yourself." He moves to make a stack of the books, forcing me to let go of _Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter_. "Seriously, Ness. These will still be here when you wake up." He sets them on the floor by the bed and then tucks my hair behind my ears. He kisses me sweetly.

I sleep soundly that night, and wake up to an empty room. I sigh loudly and lean over the side of the bed to grab _Aunt Julia. _I'm making mental notes of anything that stands out, but Pedro Camacho and Mario don't turn out to deal drugs or be closet gardeners.

I snatch the next one in the stack; the collection of Faulkner's work. I finally get somewhere when I begin to read _An Odor of Verbena._ It's the third story in the collection, and I struggle with the start. It's about a man named Bayard, a law student at the University of Mississippi. The story drags for a while, until he rides off with someone named Ringo and imagines a girl, Drusilla, waiting for him in the parlor, dressed in yellow with a sprig of a sort of plant called verbenain her hair, holding two loaded pistols. It's the name of the plant that gets me. It sounds sort of familiar, and the only reason why I figure it would is that it was mentioned, somewhere, in _Aunt Julia and the Scriptwriter._

I go back and skim the pages until I find it, and then I know I'm on the right track. Pedro Camacho drinks a tea made of verbena and mint instead of coffee. I dog-ear the pages hastily and pick up another book; _Miscellanies. _

Now that I know what I'm looking for, I skim. And skim. And skim. And then I find it, just one line: "_Vervain and Dill / Hinder witches from their will._" I'm stumped. _Verbena. Vervain. _The same thing? I go along with that, but then I'm just as confused. Witches. Is this about witches? Not that I've ever met a witch, but they seem like they could be up there with werewolves and vampires. I know it's not dill, because I know what dill looks and smells like. And dill definitely wasn't mentioned in _An Odor of Verbena _or _Aunt Julia. _

I sigh and mark the page, tossing the book into a new but growing stack on my bed. I skip the next books of botany studies, because I figure that should be the last place I look. That leaves _Faiths and Folklore. _I tear through it, and stumble upon the _exact same line. _"_Vervain and Dill / Hinder witches from their will._" I groan. This is quickly getting me nowhere. But if nothing else, I have a name now. I know what kind of plant it is. Or at least I hope I do.

Finally making progress.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the delay. I feel like I'm always apologizing for the delay. Anyway, almost to 100 reviews! Thank you so much. You know I appreciate them. <strong>


	19. Chapter 19

**I'm a terrible person. My only excuse is that I've been incredibly busy here in Italy, but what I kind of excuse is that? I'm so sorry! Chapters should be coming out regularly now, because I've been slaving away at it this past week. Hope you like the chapter!**

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><p><strong>Chapter Nineteen<strong>

I tell Alec about it when he returns to the room later that night. He's never heard of it, so he says he'll bring it up to Marcus. He has to bring it up to Marcus. We mention it to Carlisle when he stops by at six o'clock, and he has no idea either. The progress I made seems to be the only progress we'll be making today.

Carlisle and Alec go off into their little space and whisper and plot and plan what could very well be our escape, but also our death sentence. I don't want to think about how incredibly crazy or insane or psychotic their idea could be. I can only hope that my family still has some sense left, enough sense to know when they've gone too far.

I'm quickly getting back my strength, but I hope not before the end of the week. I don't think I could handle another conversation with Aro, not so soon. Carlisle changes the bandages on my wrists, and even though I don't look, he tells me that in another day or two I won't need the bandages at all. That it looks like I might have scars, but they won't be incredibly noticeable. I try not to think about it. Why would I want to think about it?

On the morning of my fifth day of recovery, I wake up to Alec's lips gently brushing mine, urging me to open my eyes. I smile into the kiss and reach, blindly, to cup his cheek. I look up at him. "What's the occasion?" I say, yawning.

Alec grins. "Do you know what day it is?" he asks, eagerly.

I shake my head. "You've got to be kidding me. I haven't known the day in six months."

"Let me give you a hint." Alec leans down and kisses me again. "_Happy Birthday_," he whispers.

My mouth falls open. "No way!"

"Yes way. Happy ninth birthday, angel."

And then grandpa comes into the room, and I groan. "_Nooo,_" I whine.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaims, grinning just as widely as Alec. I can see the dreaded tape measurer in his hands, the scale leaning against the wall by the door.

When I was first born and growing so quickly, Carlisle used to measure and weigh me a few times a day. As I got older and my growing slowed, I was measured once a month, and then once every few months. Until, eventually, it was just on my birthday and half birthday.

"Okay, Ness," Carlisle says. He holds out a hand for me, which I take begrudgingly. I stand up shakily from the bed, Alec's hand on the small of my back, steadying me. "Straight and still. Chin up." He measures quickly.

"The same?" I ask, eyebrows raised. "Five two?"

Carlisle winks. "Of course."

"Then _why_ do we still do this?"

He waves a hand. "Just . . . because."

I cross my arms across my chest when he brings over the scale. "No, thank you."

They both laugh. "It'll take two seconds," Carlisle says. "C'mon, Ness."

I glare at the two of them before stepping up on the scale. Carlisle frowns at the numbers.

"What?" I ask him.

"Well, I never expected your weight to stay the same . . . this has nothing to do with growing. But, Ness . . ." he trails off. "You need to start eating more."

I roll my eyes again. "Okay, Gramps. If you say so."

Now Alec looks concerned. "Should I make sure she eats more? Three meals a day, and all that?"

I just clench my teeth. "Can we stop talking about _me _and start talking about all of those lovely plans you've come up with?"

"Oh," Carlisle says. He looks at Alec, who lets out a deep sigh.

"Only if you're sure," Alec says to Carlisle.

"_I'm_ sure," I put in. "And considering it's _our _lives at stake, I think everyone should be sure."

I sit back on the bed, watching as Alec and Carlisle pull two seats up to the bed. They're watching me warily, as if unsure as to how I'm going to react. I don't exactly blame them, especially after last time.

"So this is what we had in mind . . ."

An hour later, they've filled me in on the whole thing. As crazy as it sounds, it also might work. For the most part, it even seems possible. Hope makes my heart feel light in a way that it hasn't for months and I can only hope that it lasts.

My birthday passes quickly, and I can't say I'm not glad. Carlisle and Alec decided on the second Monday of October and the faster time moves the sooner we'll be free.

The day after my birthday Carlisle unhooks me from all of the machines and takes his time removing them from my room; as soon as he's done, he's got to go.

He leaves with a kiss to my forehead and a teasing reminder not to kill myself before turning to Alec and lowering his voice suspiciously. I let them get away with it.

After he leaves, Alec locks the door and climbs into bed beside me.

"How do you feel?"

I tuck my head under his chin and shut my eyes. "Better. Thanks."

There's a moment of silence and then he says, "I still can't believe you did it."

I push myself up on my elbows to look at him. I don't say anything, because there's nothing I can say that I haven't said already.

He tucks a stray curl behind my ears. "You know what I think we need?"

I search his eyes before nodding my head. "Oreos and peanut butter."

He smiles. It's not a big smile, not overly cheerful, but it's big enough for me to know he's not upset with me. "A nice, warm bath," he says, eyebrows raised.

I wish I could say my recent brush with death kept us from doing something indecent, but I don't like lying. The only thing I can tell you is we, unfortunately, did _not _do the deed.

Things quickly go back to the way they were before. In the following week, I see Alec three days of seven, but I think it's safe to say we take advantage of the time we have.

Aro has me running "errands" with him again. He doesn't mention the books that are still sitting on my bedside table or my supposed suicide attempt, although he does make me wear sweaters on top of my dresses to cover the bandages that I just can't bring myself to take off. I catch Felix eyeing my wrists once or twice, and his scrutinizing gaze makes me squirm. Neither he nor Demitri mentions the date that looms just in the distance, but I feel it in the air between us.

Alec's painful dizzy spells have, as far as I know, not made another appearance. My head still pounds every once and a while, but I just call them stress migraines and live it at that. I don't bug him about telling Marcus anymore; the whole thing retreats into the back of my mind and only resurfaces when the next headache rolls around.

We're losing time incredibly fast, and Alec still has yet to hold up his end of the bargain, but I keep myself from bringing it up

One night, the week before our planned escape, while I'm up waiting for Alec—and hoping that I won't go another whole day without seeing him, I head into the kitchen for some blood. I haven't had any for a while and my latest headache has put me in the mood.

I hear the door open as I'm pulling open the fridge and listen as he sheds his cloak and the black converse that replaced his heavy black boots as summer came around.

He comes into the kitchen looking tired, his eyes shadowed and shoulders slumped. He brushes a kiss on my temple on his way to the fridge for his own bottle for freash animal blood.

"How was your day?" he asks.

"Eh," I say, massaging the bridge of my nose in a way that I hope is subtle. "Relatively boring. Better now that you're here. You?"

"The same. I didn't think that—" He pauses for a moment longer than necessary and I turn to him in concern.

"What is it?" I ask him. He's staring down into his open bottle, obviously confused about something.

"Do you smell that?" he asks me, waving the bottle under my nose.

I raise my eyebrows. "Dead animal and my lovely day-in-the-fields stench. Why?"

He looks at me blankly. "Are you sure?"

Now I roll my eyes. "Yeah, pretty sure." I finish the last of my own bottle. "I'm going to get in the shower. Want to join me?"

Alec blinks and then returns to his normal self, his current worries pushed aside for the moment. Smirking, he says, "I'll settle for a nice break on the bathroom floor, angel. Thanks for the offer, though."

After a quick shower, Alec seems to have changed his mind, because he stops me as I'm slipping on my pajamas with a slow, meaningful kiss.

I let out a sound, maybe a gasp, maybe a squeal, before jumping up to wrap my legs around him and pull his lips back down to mine as he leads us out of the bathroom.

I loosen my grip on his neck and let my hands drift up to his hair. I tighten my legs around his waist, but it's not necessary. His hands are cupping my thighs, holding me up, just under the hem of my dress. His lips move on my neck, and even I am surprised by the quiet sounds leaving my lips. I let my fingers graze his hair as I touched my mouth to his.

Alec's lips part slightly and I don't hesitate to accept the invitation. He exhales, sending his cool breath down my throat. I breathe him in, my head swimming. His arms are still around me, and my legs are still around him. He gently walks forward until we collapse onto the bed, him on top of me. My breathing is coming out in gasps. His cold lips move down to my chin, my throat, and my collarbone as I fight to catch my breath.

Once I'm breathing properly again, I entwine my fingers in his hair tighter and pull his head up, my lips searching for his. He kisses me, with more passion this time, and my heart races. I breathe his name, moving my hands toward his sweater—but it's already gone, having been removed without me noticing. My fingers find the hem of his t-shirt.

"Angel." He rolls us again, so that we face each other.

When I look into his eyes, I'm expecting caution, remorse, regret, worry, something. But all I see is anticipation and love.

"I love you," he tells me, quietly.

Every nerve ending in my body is a live wire.

"Forever," I agree.

His lips meet mine again and his hands travel down my sides, stopping at my hips. I grasp his shoulders and pull him down onto me. The only thing between us is our clothes. I snake my hands down to his waist and slide his shirt off, running my hands over his chest. This is the longest it's ever taken for him to take my clothes off, and I help him slip the big pajama shirt over my head before throwing it somewhere behind us. He places his hands on either side of my head, trailing his lips along my chest gently. His cold kisses leave trails of goose flesh and I shiver.

When our two bodies come together for the first time, we both gasp with the shock of it. I know he isn't exactly new to this, but I can tell by his reaction that something about us, something about this, isn't like anything he's experienced before. Whatever I thought our love was before now, I was wrong. _This _is it—I know it deep down in my center and with every fiber of my being. We join together time and time again and when we're done, I fall asleep in his arms.

* * *

><p><strong>Oh, yes. They did. Hope you enjoyed it! It wasn't graphic, but I'm not a fan of lemons. Next chapter up soon. Promise. Review if you don't hate me too much, or even if you do!<strong>


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

I'm shaken awake roughly the next morning, pulled from my bed.

"Get dressed," Felix orders, in a tone I've never heard from him. He seems menacing for the first time in a while, and I would believe it if Demitri weren't writing hastily on a torn piece of paper as he spoke. Felix's normally neat and parted hair is a shaggy, ragged mess.

"Hurry it up," Demitri spits out, all the while shoving the paper into my hand. He looks pretty disheveled himself, his short dark hair sticking up at odd angles. I scramble to pull on a pair of jeans as I read it.

_Everyone's listening in. It's not safe. Aro knows. He has Alec. A trial has been called._

I shove it deep into my pocket with one hand, putting my hair into a bun with the other. I slip a bra on underneath a pajama shirt that I don't remember putting on and stuff my feet into a pair of sneakers.

My hands shake. A trial? With everyone? My heart aches in my chest. I can't imagine what to expect, not from Aro. Three more days. We just needed _three more days_.

I glance at the clock next to the bed; eight o'clock. Alec's cloak is strewn over the back of a chair in the kitchen, an empty glass bottle on the counter. It looks like he'd just stepped out, not like he might be gone forever.

I let Felix and Demitri drag me to what is quickly becoming my least favorite room in the world. Everyone is waiting for us, it seems, and I can't help but gasp when I see Alec standing on the other side of the room, Afton and Santiago holding him back.

Felix and Demitri move so that they are holding me directly across from him.

"Well look at this," Aro exclaims, overly cheery. "Our two love birds. How are you both on this fine morning?"

Alec glares at him with more hatred than I've ever seen one person have. I try to reach out with my mind to harm Aro, distract him, but Renata is standing behind him and I know that anything I did would be futile.

"No one will be killed," he trills, "if you can prove your loyalty to me and the guard." He turns to me, eyes gleaming. "Since we all know you're the most talented of the couple, why don't we use this as a nice little demonstration? Renesmee, I think I'd just love it to see you punish poor Alec for me. That would be a nice punishment in itself, don't you think?" I don't respond, and Aro clucks his tongue. "Chain them up, please."

Alec and I are both shoved to the ground, and our respective guards—all of whom know of the would-be escape plan—snap the handcuffs shut around our wrists.

I look into the crowd of people—vampires—watching, and I see something different in their faces, something I'd never seen here before. Pity. They all knew of us before this moment, and not one of them is surprised. But they don't want us to die.

"Do it," Aro snarls, all pretense of being cheerful gone. "If he means nothing to you, do it. That will prove it to me. Nothing else." Alec meets my gaze for a moment from where he is chained to the floor, and I know what he wants me to do—whatever it is that will keep me alive. Which would mean hurting him. And I can't do that—I never could, no matter what was at stake. After that brief moment, though, Alec squeezes his eyes shut tight, while the rest of his body seems to relax—he sags against the floor, resigned.

I look up at Aro. "I _won't_! I won't do it!"

Aro looks over at Demitri and nods, and I'm forced to watch Demitri walk to the opposite side of the room and whip the man I love—sounds like glass shattering cut through my skull and pierce my brain, and the sound of Alec screaming slices through my heart, the tortured expression on his face forever imprinted into my mind. "Stop it!" I shriek, tears tumbling down my face. "Stop hurting him!"

Aro holds up a hand to Demitri, and looks down at me. "I'll give you one last chance. Hurt him, or you get to watch him die."

"Kill _me_!" I shout. "Just don't hurt him," I sob. "Please. Do anything you want with me. Just don't hurt Alec."

Aro clucks his tongue. "Well I suppose that says it all then, doesn't it?" He sighs. "I wish I didn't have to do this, dear Renesmee. But you've brought this upon yourself."

I grit my teeth and brace myself, locking eyes with Alec from across the room. _I love you, _he mouths, seeming to accept what's about to happen.

More tears fall from my eyes, and I nod sharply, trying to imprint him into my mind—his eyes, his nose, his mouth—every single thing about him. _I love you, too,_ I say back. I send the thought to him, across the room, plant it there, open my thoughts and emotions to him.

It's like one of those moments when people talk about their lives flashing before their eyes. Because as we stare at one each other, every part of our relationship replays in my mind's eye. I remember how strong and invincible and untouchable he'd been when we first met, when he'd taken me back to my room. I remember how he'd defended me against Jane, stood up for me against Aro, when he'd hardly known me. I remember the gentleness of his touch when he'd bandaged my bloodied and battered feet. I remember him carrying me in his arms after the fight with Felix. I remember the moment he told me he loved me. Most of all, I remember last night. Nine months. We'd known each other only nine months, but we'd lived a lifetime in it.

His eyes light up, and he smiles a little bit at me. I know he heard everything I'd thought, and I'm glad of it. "Forever and always," he says aloud, and the entire room is silent.

I swallow hard, and smile through my tears. "Forever and always," I repeat, quietly.

And then everything goes dark.

The only sound is my breathing, and the only source of light is a small candle in a holder against the wall. It's freezing, and my hands and feet are completely numb; the stone floor is damp and ice-cold. At first, I think I'm alone, but then, in the dim light of the candle, I can see someone else, barely three or four feet away. I can't tell who it is straight away, but I also realize that something is wrong with whoever it is—they don't seem to be breathing, or moving at all, and they are lying face down.

But then my breathing catches, because everything is coming back to me. Oh my god. It's _Alec. _"Alec?" I whisper. I crawl toward him, and nudge his shoulder gently. "Alec?" I say again. No reaction. Oh, no. No, no, no . . .

I move closer to him, and gently lift up the back of his shirt. Long, dark gashes are visible even in the minimal light, his skin torn deeply and not healing. Slowly, I turn him onto his side, and pull his head into my lap, cradling him to my chest. He's so still—so silent, so unmoving—I think he may be dead, but I convince myself that isn't possible. I cup his face in my hands, kiss him on his forehead, his eyelids, his nose, his cheekbones, his lips.

"I love you," I whisper, tears clouding my eyes. I run my thumb along his lips. "I love you," I say again, a sob building in my chest. I brush hair back from his forehead, and try to convince myself that his body isn't colder than it usually is, his skin isn't paler, his wounds _will _start healing, that it's normal for a vampire to be unconscious. I sit and I sit and I sit, sobbing, while time seems to slow down around me, waiting for him to wake up, for him to kiss me, for him to tell me he loves me, just one last time. I reach out with my mind, and I can sense him there—but it's faint and blurry, an impenetrable fortress.

When he finally does speak, I nearly jump, he scares me so much. "Angel?" he says, voice hoarse and crackly.

I inhale sharply. "Alec!" I exclaim, leaning down so that our noses are brushing. I kiss him softly. "I've been so worried—you've been out for hours—I didn't know what to do—"

"Hours?" he interjects. I nod, brushing his hair back gently with one hand and wiping my eyes dry with the other. "How strange," he says, thoughtfully.

I stare at him blankly. "You do realize that I thought you were dead. For hours."

He doesn't look very sorry. "Now you know how I feel every time you do something stupid."

I stare at him blankly.

He groans. "What I _meant_ to say was, I'm so sorry. That must have been very difficult for you."

I roll my eyes. "Thanks. Apology not accepted. Now, back to one of the many current issues at hand—what on _Earth_ can make a vampire pass out for hours on end?"

Alec shrugs and then winces. "Before today, I would say nothing. But now . . ." His eyes widen. "The blood!"

"What blood?"

"Last night! Remember? I knew it smelt strange. They—_he_—must have been putting things in the blood. Like—" He curses.

"The vervain," I say, realization dawning. "That's what it's been all along, hasn't it? The headaches? The dizziness? The general fact that we've both felt like crap ever since Aro started tagging me along with him?" I frown. "We were the experiment. There's no way he knew exactly what it would do, but—"

"What do you mean, both of us?" Alec interrupts, looking angry.

I bite my lip. "Can we talk about that little thing later? I'm not so sure—"

"Are you alright _now_?" he asks, concern lining his face. He grips my hands in his. "Your hands are freezing." He adjusts his position on my legs and winces again.

I frown at him. "Roll over." I say.

"No, it's fine."

I stare at him. "Roll over, Alec," I say again.

"No, really, I'm fine."

I just look at him. After another second, he does what I asked. He turns onto his side, buries his face in my stomach. I hug him to me, and he wraps his arms around my waist. Gently, I pull up the back of his shirt—not much change.

"Alec," I choke out. "Is this . . . are you going to heal?" I curl my fingers into his hair.

"I don't know," he says, speaking into my stomach. "This is still . . . unbelievable. If we're right, if it's still in my system—that's why I'm not healing. That's how I was unconscious." He shudders. "Everything sort of aches." I tighten my grip on his fingers, and his eyes widen. "You really are freezing, Ness! Are you _sure _you're alright? Did they hurt you?"

With my free hand, I try to rub away my goose flesh. "I'm fine, I'm fine. Nobody touched me, I don't think. But what do _you _think? I mean, do you think—"

This time it's not Alec cutting me off, but a loud noise above us. The ground starts to shake, and shouting comes from somewhere nearby. Alec and I both start at the sudden movement and sound.

"What the hell was that?" I exclaim. Alec sits up slowly, painfully, and winces. I stand up and hold out my hand to him, which he accepts gratefully.

"They're here," he says, relief in his tone.

I look at him. "What? No, they're not supposed to be here today. They're coming Monday." But my stomach is in my throat, because I remember something Carlisle mentioned—_explosives. _And if those noises aren't bombs, I don't know what they could be.

Alec wipes his hands on his shirt, wincing, and avoids my gaze.

"Oh my god. The two of you _lied _to me?"

Now he looks at me. "We figured it would be better, for you, if you weren't expecting it when it happened."

I glare at him. "I hate you. On the upside, this does mean we're stuck here for three days less than we were supposed to.

Alec smiles at my less-than-apparent enthusiasm, but I can see in his eyes that he's worried, that he's in pain.

I sigh. "Turn around, Al. Let me see."

He obeys, and I lift his shirt gingerly. They're starting to heal. Exhaling in relief, I move to press the last remaining gashes shut. "I can't believe he did this to you."

Alec groans in pain. "He had to," he forces out. "To prove his own loyalty. To protect himself."

I grimace. "I expect a formal apology."

"Well, then, I must say that I formally apologize," a voice comes, and Alec and I both turn to see Demitri standing next to the now-open door of the dungeon. It creaks loudly as he pushes it open further, and the light in the stairwell behind him allows me to see his wide grin.

"So it turns out our friendly little plant isn't as friendly as we thought," Alec tells him.

"You're kidding."

"Unfortunately not. Turns out it's very much anti-vampire."

"That bastard," Demitri says. He looks concerned as we walk over to him, and he claps Alec on the shoulder. "Well, I'm glad to see you standing. Let's see the damage." Alec turns around, and Demitri lifts up his shirt. He lets out a low whistle. "I really am sorry." He looks at me, too. "I am," he urges.

I nod, biting my lower lip anxiously. "Have you seen my parents? Or any of my family?"

Demitri nods. "Yes. They were going after Aro and Caius, along with those wolves and a few other covens. They were worried about you two." The ground shakes, and even Demitri starts. "We should start moving. Good planning, Alec."

I frown again, not glad of the reminder of my boyfriend and grandfather's lie.

Alec sees my expression and groans. "Angel," he pleads. "Can we please get out of here first? And then you can yell at me? The roof is coming down, and I don't want any of us to be here when it does."

I turn away and take the lead, walking around Demitri and starting up the stairs. "I am so mad at you."

I hear a dramatic sigh, loud enough to be heard over the noise upstairs. "I know you are, love. Please watch your step."

I do, barely avoiding a gaping crack in the steps. "I hate you. And my grandfather."

"No, you don't."

We reach the top of the stairs and hurry down a dark hallway. We're almost to the doorway at the end when I hear a brief shout, coming from above, followed by laughter. Emmett?

Then the world explodes.

When I open my eyes, fire has completely engulfed the hallway and the stairwell past it. The ceiling is cracked, large pieces of stone having fallen just near my head. The steel beams supporting the roof curl in the heat of the flames that crawl along the walls. I try to sit up, but the room tilts. I hope I don't have a concussion. Pulling myself up with my arms, using a marble stone for support, I groan. I look down at my calf, and a small area of skin is mottled, burned. The smell is awful, like charred meat. I can feel the contents of my stomach beginning to rise.

"Alec?" I start, panicked. "Alec!"

"Angel, I'm right here," Alec calls, his voice rough and muffled. I see a pile of collapsed stone begin to shift, and he emerges from it, tossing slats of wooden beams aside. "Are you alright?" he says, rushing over to me. I worry at my lip, gesturing to my leg. "Oh, no." He gingerly fingers the burn before moving to tear a bit of his shirt off and wrapping it up tenderly. "I'm sure your grandfather is around here somewhere. Not to worry." He kisses me gently. "Everything else working? No broken bones?"

I shake my head, rolling my shoulder slowly. "No dislocated shoulder, either." I wipe a bit of soot from his chin, and he does the same for me, rubbing at my forehead. I point upward, to the gaps in the ceiling. "Everyone's up there. I heard my uncle."

He nods. "I'll lift you up." To the side, he says, "Demitri. Get up. Stop being so dramatic." Another pile of stones shifts, and there is Demitri, covered head to toe in dust. The fire is beginning to spread, and I know that if there was anything these two vampires should be afraid of, its fire.

Demitri looks at Alec, stricken.

"What is it?"

Demitri turns to the side, avoiding our gazes. "Jane."

"Jane?" Alec repeats, and then it dawns on him. It dawns on me, too. She wasn't at the trial this morning. She was in the dungeons. "No, no, no." I pick a piece of stone from his hair, see the obvious panic in his eyes.

"_Uncle Emmett!_" I shout, not looking away.

"Loch Ness Monster!" a booming voice comes, and my uncle is dropping from the ceiling. "My favorite niece!" He pulls me into a hug so tight I fear my ribs will shatter. "I missed you, Remy bear!" He looks at the three of us, covered in dust and ashes, and the fire threatening to spread. "Nice to meet you," he says, holding out a hand. "Well, you know, now that you're not trying to kill someone I care about." I glare at him and he winks back, but Alec doesn't seem to have heard him.

Alec looks stricken, and I let out a breath. Smoke is filling the air, and it's starting to fill my lungs. He shakes himself, grasps Emmett's hand briefly with a stiff nod, and then turns to me. "Love, I need you to get out of here. This smoke—you won't be able to breathe. Go with your uncle."

"I'm not leaving you here," I argue. "This fire is just as deadly to you as it is to me."

"Go, Renesmee," he insists, moving to clasp his hand around my wrist. Now I know he's being serious—he called me by my full name. His fingers are cool on my scars, and I almost shiver.

"Come with us." I accuse him through my teeth, shaking off his hand, "You promised we'd be safe. That we'd get out together."

"I promised that _you_ would be safe, and I don't want you anywhere near this fire. Go with your uncle. I just need to find Jane." The smoke is thickening, and my head feels heavy.

Emmett takes me by my upper arm, gently pulling me away. "Go," Alec says, pleadingly. He presses a quick kiss to my temple. "Be safe." He looks to Emmett, who nods seriously. And then he's gone, disappearing into the flames.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope this chapter wasn't a disappointment to any of you! I was getting some reviews asking me to just get going with the story, so I decided not to write any more fillers and just go right into it. Unfortunately, this also means we might only have five or so chapters left. Sequel?<strong>

**Oh, just one last thing . . . Review? **


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Emmett lifts me into his arms and jumps up easily, pulling us both through a maze of debris and collapsed rooms above. Everything that isn't stone is blackened, and I wonder how they stopped the fires they started. The plan doesn't seem as foolproof now that I've seen it in action. We go down another set of stairs, coming to a room with a fire burning bright. I cough harshly, the thick, sweet-smelling smoke filling my lungs. Looking in the direction of the towering flames, I make out the shapes of two people standing in the distance. My heart jumps. Alec and Demitri? Alec and Jane? Felix?

As quickly as it had sprung to life, my heart plummets. It's my parents. And as glad as I am to see them, they aren't the people I had hoped for.

"Renesmee!" my mother cries. My father turns to see me, and echoes the exclamation. They both run for us, at our sides in seconds. Emmett passes me into my father's arms. I cough harder. They run up another set of stairs, all the while showering me with kisses and exclamations of greeting. I don't return the excitement, burrowing into my father's chest.

"Sweetheart," he murmurs. I wonder what he's thinking, if he can make sense of my thoughts. I know that I can't. He sets me down on an especially low pile of stone, and he and Mom crouch to meet my gaze. He sees the sloppy bandage and examines it closely.

Mom gasps. "Edward, look. Is that a burn? It's a burn, isn't it?"

"Darling," he says, shushing her. "It's not too bad."

"What's wrong, honey?" Mom whispers, moving to sit next to me. I lean my head on her shoulder, and she combs through my dust-covered hair with her gentle fingers. "Are you hurt somewhere else? Is it the smoke?"

Dad's eyes widen when he catches on. "Where did he go?" he asks me.

"He went after his sister," I say, my voice rough. I clear my throat, and Mom wipes my eyes with her shirtsleeves.

Mom looks at Dad for confirmation, and he nods. _Alec_, he mouths. Mom presses her lips together.

Emmett seems to have followed us, and now he's standing a few feet behind my father. "Hey, kiddo. No crying. Jasper and I are going to go after him—I'm sure he's fine."

Jasper walks up behind him and smiles at me comfortingly. They're probably right. It can't have been more than ten minutes since he left me. What could have happened in ten minutes? "Thank you," I say to them. "Thank you so much. I've missed everyone more than you all can imagine—I didn't want to be such a mess when I saw you again." I wipe my eyes. "Sorry, Mom, Dad. I really am happy to see you."

They smile at me the way they always have, perfectly in sync with each other. Mom takes my left hand, and Dad takes my right. Jasper and Emmett have vanished.

"We missed you, sweetheart," Mom says.

"It wasn't the same without you," Dad says softly. "Nothing was the same without you." He presses his lips to my cheek.

Mom kisses my hand. "We were so worried. Your father"—she winks—"was especially terrified."

Dad looks embarrassed but doesn't disagree. "You're my little girl," he says.

Mom laughs lightly, but I can see in her eyes how worried she really was. "You're starting to remind me of Charlie," she mock-whispers to him.

Dad sighs. His long fingers cup my cheeks. "Don't listen to your mother. She's gone somewhat crazy in your absence, honey."

"_Crazy_?" Mom repeats, eyes wide. "You should have seen your father. He—"

Dad clears his throat, and she breaks off, her eyes smiling. I laugh, squeezing their hands. "I missed you both so much."

Mom tightens her grip on my shoulders, and Dad pulls me closer. Her eyes are bright as she tucks my hair behind my ears.

"Here she goes," Dad whispers to me. We both laugh.

Mom glares at Dad before turning to me with a smile. Her eyes are bright. "So tell us about your man," she says.

"My man," I repeat. My stomach is still in knots at the thought of Alec being trapped by fire—or worse—but the thought of finally gossiping with my mother about the man I love makes me smile. I'm reminded of last night, and my cheeks start to burn. I block my mind from my father's that instant; shove the thoughts deep into my mind. I've gotten so used to being here without anyone looking into my head that I've forgotten to hide . . . _certain_ . . . things.

Dad starts to groan. "Oh, Renesmee. Please, don't tell us. Don't. I'll kill him."

Mom sighs. "I'll tell you later," I say to her.

Dad's expression shifts, and he seems serious. "The Alec I remember . . ." he trails off. He looks concerned. I'm immediately reminded of how long it's been since we've spoken, of how much time has passed without my father's presence. He's never met _my_ Alec.

"He's changed," I tell him.

"Love changes people," Mom adds.

Dad nods slowly. "I just wanted to make sure, love."

I realize now why Alec's endearing way of addressing me—_love—_had seemed so sweet. It's because that's what my father calls my mother, and sometimes calls me. And I've never seen two people more in love than my parents. Dad stands, and so does Mom. They pull me up gently.

Dad starts to lead us further away from the rising smoke. "We'll go outside to wait. It's very . . . smoky in here."

"Aro?" I ask. I can't believe I hadn't thought to ask before. For a moment my heart stops at the idea that he got away.

Dad pauses to look at me. "Taken care of," he says.

My heart jump starts. "Caius?"

"The same."

"Marcus is fine," Mom adds. "He's gone into hiding, for the moment. We know how he helped you."

I nod. "Thank you."

My parents lead me outside, where we sit on a street corner in front of Jasper's convertible to wait for everyone else, plus Alec and hopefully Jane. I wonder where Felix is, and the rest of the guard. I ask my parents.

"They've all fled," Dad says honestly.

"Not Felix," Mom argues. "We never even saw Felix. Or Demitri."

"Demitri is with Alec," I say quietly.

"I don't especially want to see Felix," Dad says. "Not if you don't hope to see him torn to bits."

I groan. "Dad, seriously? Not you too. Alec freaked out, Grandpa freaked out . . . He had to, okay? I'm fine. Clearly." I rub my arms in the cold air, shrugging. "He apologized, anyways."

Dad looks at me sideways. "He _apologized_? Renesmee. You give others too much credit."

I glare at him. "Don't start with that one, either. I already got that from Grandpa."

"Good," Dad says. "You need to hear it. And maybe this will teach you not to take out the trash by yourself _in the snow _without shoes on."

I roll my eyes. "Are you—"

Mom sighs. "Stop it, you two. No fighting."

"Fine. What's taking everyone so long?" I ask. I pick up a stick and twirl it in the dirt in the gutter. "I mean, Aro's dead, Caius is dead . . ." Mom and Dad are standing slowly at either side of me, and I look up to see Jasper and Emmett walking toward us, followed by Demitri and Felix.

I look between everyone, and my heart stops. I stand up slowly. "Where is he?" I ask. "Demitri, where is he?"

Felix looks morose, Demitri frantic. "I don't know how it spread so quickly," Demitri explains, panicked. "We were looking for her, and . . . it just came down in front of me. The fire—I couldn't get through."

Jasper looks worried, and Emmett sad. "We're so sorry, kid," Emmett whispers. Their eyes relay the truth that no one will speak.

"No." My knees give out, and I slump forward. Jasper rushes to grab my arms, lowering me to the ground carefully. "No, he promised. He promised we would be safe. He has to be safe."

"Sweet girl." Dad sits down on the ground beside me, Jasper's arm around my shoulder to keep me upright.

"We looked everywhere," Jasper says. His hair is matted to the side of his face, gray with ashes. "We went around the fire, but he couldn't have escaped through the back—that was where the fire came from. I don't think he could have made it out, sweetheart."

My breath comes in spasms, ripping through my chest, a thousand knives in my throat.

Felix crouches in front of me, and I can see in his eyes how much pain he is in. Jane and Alec, the last of his family. I see that he is the only person who is in the same agony as me. He gently takes my hands in his. "_Mia cara,"_ he whispers, and the mere tone of his voice is enough to send me into tears.

"We need to go back. We need to find him." I try to pull my hands away, try to stand, but even my grief can't break the steady hold of three vampires. "_Please_," I cry openly. "Let me go, _please_."

Jasper's eyes darken with worry, and so do everyone else's.

"There isn't anything left to find," Emmett says gently.

Again, I try to shake off my dad and Jasper, but I only succeed in pulling my hands from Felix's.

Felix turns to Demitri. "Demitri. Please."

Demitri nods, looking at me warily. Felix looks back to me once more, squeezing my knees gently. "Arrivederci, cara."

My dad looks at him, confused by something. All he says is, "Grazie," and then Felix and Demitri turn to leave. They stop before turning down the corner.

"Where are you staying?" Felix asks, looking at my dad.

"Santa Luce," my dad answers, and Felix nods.

"Grazie," he says, repeating my dad's statement from before. I have enough sense to know he's saying thank you.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the delay. And sorry if it's not all you hoped for! Only maybe three chapters left, BUT I've decided to make a sequel. School starts the day after tomorrow, so hopefully once everything's settled I'll have a schedule: after homework, one hour for book reviews (at my blog, Simply Nerdy Book Reviews) daily, and a couple hundred words for fanfic for every review I write. Until I get a job, that is. Sorry again. I've been getting a ton of reviews asking for updates-if you've reviewed recently, I'm sorry I've been unable to respond. I've been back in the States for exactly a month tomorrow, and things are CRAZY. Anyway, hoped it wasn't too disappointing. Next chapter up soon, I swear. I'm ready to finish this one!<strong>

**If you're not too upset, review! **


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

My family had purchased a farmhouse in Santa Luce, and its appearance is not a surprise. It's surrounded by sprawling hills and tall trees, and the outside is stone. As beautiful as it is, I'd give anything to be back in Volterra. My eyes are dry and red from crying, and I'm glad for my uncle Jasper and his silence.

"Sweetheart," Jasper says softly, breaking through the numbed haze I've fallen into. He's out of the car and opening my door in seconds. He reaches inside and moves to pick me up, but I push him away.

"Please leave me alone."

"Renesmee, sweetheart, please let me take you inside."

My eyes fill at his earnest expression, but I immediately harden again. He knows how I feel. I don't need to explain myself to him. "He could be fine," I whisper. "You don't know for sure."

He looks sad. "I know, sweet girl. I hope we're wrong."

"He knows where we are," I press. "He can find us."

Jasper just nods, holding out his hands for me again. "Please come inside. Carlisle needs to see your leg, and your parents are worried. If we don't go inside soon, they'll come out here."

I reach out to take his hands, and he freezes. "Uncle Jasper?"

His cold fingers wrap around my wrists, turning them so they face up. He sucks in a breath. "_Renesmee."_

I snatch my hands from his. The scars are still angry and red, and I can only hope they won't always stay that way.

"That was my fault, wasn't it?" he whispers, horrified.

I shake my head, crossing my arms so he can't see them. "No, it was my fault."

His stricken expression reminds me of Alec, and my stomach rolls. He blinks. "Carlisle told us, but . . . it didn't actually . . . I didn't really . . ."

I swallow hard. "We needed more time, and I found a way to get it."

"_Renesmee_ . . ." he says again. "I can't believe you did that to yourself. Your parents—when they see that—"

I stand from the car and shove past him. "I didn't want to die. I did it because I didn't want _him_ to die! And now he's—he's—" I freeze. I won't say it. Can't say it. I clench my teeth, turning away from Jasper, trying to hide my tears from him. But my shoulders shake with my sobs, and I know that he feels what I'm feeling.

"Sweetheart," he whispers, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and pulling me towards the house. I let him. I hardly see my family through my tears, all waiting expectantly in the living room. Jacob is standing behind the couch, and he watches me sadly, warily. Something in my face—or maybe something in Jasper's—keeps everyone rooted where they are.

Jasper takes me up a creaky staircase, and I shut my eyes. I can't handle any of this. I don't open my eyes until he sets me down onto a bed, and I can see that they've given me the one with the best view outside—the windows take up most of the back wall, and it's beautiful even through my tears.

Jasper tucks me in, and moves to sit at the end of the bed. "No, please don't," I choke out. "Please."

Not waiting for him to leave, I move the digital clock from the dresser and take it into bed with me, watching the time. It's half past five. I woke up this morning at eight, to find Alec gone. I was taken to the meeting room. We were locked in the dungeon. How long were we in the dungeon for? Five hours? Six?

I sit up in bed, calculating. If it had been five hours, then I'd left Alec with Demitri around three. My family had left Volterra around four. The drive to Santa Luce had taken over an hour. Two and a half hours without Alec.

"I'm going to wait for him."

"Renesmee, please," Jasper begs. "Can I get Carlisle to look at your burn? Can _I_ look at your burn? You have a bruise on your forehead—"

"Don't touch me. Okay?" I force my voice to stay steady, at a normal volume. "I'm fine."

"Renesmee—"

"Please!" I can feel myself edging closer towards hysteria which each passing moment. I need him to leave the room, now. "I'm fine. Please leave me alone."

"I can't, you need—"

"Uncle Jasper?"

He leaves.

I hope and pray and plead. There has to be some sort of way that he'd survived—that he hadn't been turned to ashes. That he can come back to me.

The clock beeps at the hour.

Six.

I get out of bed to shut the blinds. I can't stand the light; my head pounds, my eyes water. I ache everywhere. Before they're shut, I notice the massive guest house in the back—that must be where everyone else is staying, although I'm sure some of them are in the house. I can hear everyone downstairs—well, it's mostly Emmett, but I can sense everyone else. I want to yell at them to be quiet, to get out of my head, but I know that wouldn't support the idea of me being "fine."

An hour passes; the clock sounds.

Seven.

The house slowly goes quiet, the only sounds the common creaks and groans of an older home. Bedroom doors sweep open, windows slide shut. Silence is uncommon in a Cullen family home, and I know I'm the reason for this rare quiet.

I'm falling in and out of sleep when I hear my door open. I sit upright, and see that it's my mom. She switches on the bedside light and sits down next to me on the bed.

"Hi, honey," she says, taking my hand in hers.

I sink back down into my pillows, turning my head. I pull my hand away. "Please go away, Mom. Please leave me alone."

She purses her lips. "I understand what you're going through right now, hon. When your father left—"

"That's just it. You _don't_ understand. Alec didn't _leave_. He's—" My throat closes around the words, my eyes filling with tears. I can't say it. Nobody else has said it yet, and I refuse to be the first. I refuse to acknowledge it. "Please leave, Mom. Please."

Mom closes her eyes briefly, pained. I feel guilty for a moment, but then it passes. She pats my hand and kisses my forehead. "Okay, honey. I love you."

She leaves the room, but I see her shadow remain just in front of my door.

"Bella," my dad says. "She needs time. Space. I told you not to—"

"We just got her back," Mom whispers. "And we've already lost her, Edward. She's already gone."

"Love, I know you're worried. I'm terrified. But she needs us to leave her alone."

"Just tell me," she pleads. "What is she thinking? I need to know she's alright."

A pause, as if he's listening. "She's blocking me out. She needs her privacy. Please, Bella, leave her be. She'll come to us when she's ready."

They kiss—I know they do, because I know my parents—and Mom consents. Their footsteps slowly fade as they walk further away.

I ache for him, for his smell, his voice, his touch. For his humor, his smile. I try to think of the last thing I said to him, but I can't draw it up. I argued with him—I didn't want to leave. I remember what he said to me, though. I can feel his lips brushing my temple. I can see his lips forming the words, hear his voice in my ear: _Be safe. _

I force myself to leave the bed and take a shower. The ashes from my hair have coated the pillows in a dark dust, and I know my grandmother won't be too happy—although, at this point, I doubt anyone will have the audacity to say something to me about pillows.

I stay in the shower until the water goes cold, and even after that. Dirt and bits of stone swirl down the drain, but eventually it clears out. I'm shivering from the cold water, my hands pruned, so I finally shut it off. I sink to the floor of the shower, wrapping my arms around my knees. I stare at my scarred wrists, rub the dark red lines. Was it worth it? Was anything worth it, to be so miserable?

Yes, it was. I love him.

_Dad_, I call out, and every mind in the house seems to freeze. Nobody talks, nobody moves. And then I hear my dad's voice downstairs. Everyone resumes what they were doing, but I know they're all listening. The door to my bedroom opens, and I hear Dad sitting on the bed to wait for me. I force myself to stand up, grabbing the robe from the back of the door. I tie it tightly shut and leave the bathroom. The sight of my dad makes me want to cry again, and I wrinkle my nose against the feeling. My chest tightens with the effort of not crying, and I suck in a sharp breath.

He stands up and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tight to his chest.

"_I know you love him_," he thinks to me.

_"I love him so much. It's ripping me apart._"

"_There still might be a chance._"

"_I know you don't believe that_."

He kisses me on the head and walks me to the bed.

"_Why did you lie to Mom?_"

He takes a moment to think about this, stroking my wet hair. "_They're your thoughts,_" he finally thinks. "_Your emotions. It's private. Your mother has no business knowing what you're thinking—and neither do I. Why aren't you blocking me?_"

"_Honestly_?"He nods. "_I don't have the energy." _I bury my head into his shoulder. He pulls me close. "_I feel awful, though. I should be so excited to see all of you . . . I should be thanking everyone who came that didn't really need to._"

Dad considers this quietly, but I'm still in his head. He thinks faster than anyone else I know—thoughts rush through his mind like Niagara Falls, and not all of them are his own. Everyone else's thoughts are there—my mom's, Alice's, Rose's, Esme's. I can't follow anything he's thinking.

"_Nobody is angry,_" the clear thought finally comes. "_Everyone feels awful. Nobody saw anything like this coming. Especially those of us who had been coordinating with him; all of us could tell how much he loved you. Carlisle feels terrible._"

"_Grandpa was great with him. They were so funny together, especially when . . ._"I hesitate, but then I hold out my right wrist for him to see. I may as well get it over with.

He doesn't react like Jasper—his emotions are less clear, even being inside his head, other than the sadness in his eyes. "_Your mother is going to be so upset,_" is all he thinks.

"_And you? Are you upset?_"

"_I'm very upset._"

"_Are you mad at me?_"

"_No._"

"_Honestly?_"

"_I'm not mad at you. I'm angry that you felt you had to do it, but I'm not mad at you._"

"_I'm sorry._"

"_I know you are._"

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the delay yet again. I'm planning on having CiR finished up by Thanksgiving, so I'll be hard at work until then. Hopefully one update a week. Also, the sequel is in the works as well. Reviews are always appreciated! We're almost to 200. Thanks for sticking with me, folks. <strong>


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Felix comes to the house the next morning. He doesn't come to my room, but I know it's him. I can feel his mind, sense his grief. He isn't hiding it from me.

He sits just downstairs, just under my feet, by himself. I wonder why. I wonder if he told my family to leave him alone, but who does that? Who goes to someone's house and then tells them to leave?

I consider going downstairs, but Alice is in the room next to me and Emmett in the room after that. My mind is numb. My heart is numb. _I _am numb. I am miserable with waiting, with hoping, with mindlessly dreaming.

I hear my dad's voice, so obviously lying, in my ears. _There still might be a chance. _I try to pretend for a while, maybe a few hours, but no amount of pretending will save me.

I have never seen Alec outside of Volterra, and yet I see him everywhere. I see him in the massive bathtub, the shower. I see him in my eyes, in my reflection. When I open the blinds, I see him in the back garden, sitting at the small wicker table set. When I shut my eyes, I see him standing in front of me, his voice music in my ears.

_Angel._

_I love you. _

_Be safe. _

Felix comes to my room later that day. He doesn't knock, just comes right in. His eyes widen at my appearance, and that assures me that I look as awful as I feel. He looks different, and I can tell he notices my staring by the way that he frowns.

"It's the hair, isn't it? It's stranger for me, having had long hair for six centuries." He reaches up and tries to fluff it, make it bigger, but it doesn't work. "The fire took most of my hair with it."

"I think it looks good," I murmur, wrapping my arms around my knees. "I like it."

"Well, thank you. Demitri made the biggest fuss about it."

"Demitri?"

"He's not here. He went up north; Aosta, Torino, you know. That area."

I don't know, actually. But I nod anyway.

"You look terrible," he says, nonchalant.

I purse my lips. "I don't have many people to look great for these days, Felix."

"Ah," he says, and sits down at my feet. I pull the covers up to my chin.

"I'm going to find him," I say, firmly.

Felix nods. "Okay."

"You can't think he's really gone," I murmur. "You can't think it. Not for a second."

"You look like you've been thinking that for the past few days, _cara_."

I start to cry. Felix looks down at his hands, and I'm grateful. I take a deep breath and bite my lip so hard it starts to bleed. I freeze, but Felix doesn't react. Instead, he takes a tissue from the bedside table and presses it into my hands.

"I'm sorry," I say, wiping my cheeks and my lip.

Felix sighs, watching me carefully. "Don't be," he says finally. "It's not your fault. None of this is."

I swallow hard. "If it's not my fault, than whose fault is it?"

Felix stands and walks over to the window, looking past the vineyard to the rolling hills and the pale winter sun. "What are you planning on doing?" he asks me honestly after a moment.

My nails bite into my palms as my hands clench involuntarily. "What can I do? My parents won't let me go back to Volterra." I finger the bandage on my calf, which someone must have tended to while I'd been sleeping. "What can I do?" I say again.

Felix returns to my side and touches his fingers to my chin. "We'll figure something out. We'll find Alec, and we'll bring him home."

And he's right.

Three days later, Felix comes into my room with a small grin on his face, his eyes brighter than I've ever seen them—and not with a fresh kill, not bright red. Bright with _excitement._

I sit up in bed and look at him.

"What is it?" I ask. "What did you do?"

He smiles faux-innocently. "Nothing. Nothing at all, cara."

"Felix."

"_No_thing, _no_thing."

"_Felix."_

I'm sitting up now, watching him warily, hands wrung tightly in my lap.

"I may have . . ." he trails off. "Oh, it's nothing."

I hear Emmett laugh downstairs, followed by a muted bang.

"What did you _do_?" I throw my legs over the side of the bed and glare at him. "What did you do, Felix? If you don't tell me now, so help me—"

"Alright, alright." He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "It's time. If we're going to go, we need to go now."

Tears well in my eyes. "What? If you're setting me up—tricking me somehow, messing with me—I'll kill you Felix, I swear I will."

"Amo_re_! I am not. I've spoken with Emmett and Jasper, as well as the wolf. Everyone else has gone hunting."

I stare at him, wide-eyed. "_What?_"

"The coast is clear, cara. Let's go."

"_What?_"

Emmett comes into the room behind him. "Ness, if we don't go now, we'll miss our chance."

I stand up shakily. "We're going to go find him?"

"_Yes_, Ness!" Jake yells from downstairs. "Jeeze. C'mon already."

I hear a car start outside, and I know they're being serious. "Let's go! Let's go, let's go! Why didn't you say so sooner?" I glare at Felix. "You're such an ass!"

He throws his arm over my shoulder and hugs me close. "You love me," he says.

I roll my eyes. "You know I do."

We pile into the car—Felix, Jasper, Emmett, Jake, and I—and take off for Volterra at an incredibly unsafe speed. For the first time ever, I don't mind.

Felix takes my hand in his, squeezing tight. Jake clears his throat and Felix looks over at him and my uncles. Jasper meets my gaze in the rearview mirror. "We should split up," Felix says, "so we can cover more ground. Renesmee, you'll head on down to the below-ground levels, alright? Take one of your uncles with you; each of you can take the separate pathways—if you just keep on going, they meet at the end." It's been an hour, and we're pulling up to what once was the main headquarters of the Volturi, but now looks like nothing more than ancient ruins.

Jasper gets out of the car and opens the door for me. "I'll go with you, sweetheart," he says, reaching out for my free hand. He pulls me toward him, away from Felix. I pretend not to notice.

Felix nods casually, leading us towards what once was the back exit to the buildings. "Emmett, you'll take floors one through four. Jacob, five through eight. I'll handle the residential areas." He turns to me. "Since they're separate, I assume they're mostly untouched by the fires. Do you want me to get anything from your chamber? I need to grab some things from Alec's chambers, and mine as well."

My jaw slackens. What do I want from my room? My books? My first edition of _The Catcher in the Rye_? What else is there? My memories? "I can go later," I say firmly. "After we find Alec."

Felix lets out a breath. "Okay, yes."

I suck on my lip. "I know that only Felix and I really knew Alec and really care that we find him—but please, please try your hardest to find him, and Jane. And if you do, please shout for me." I turn to my uncles. "Do you have cell phones?" They nod. Of course. "Be ready to call Grandpa. He's probably hurt, and we'll need help."

Felix frowns. "Can I talk to you for a second, Renesmee? Alone?" He looks pointedly at Jake, but all three of them turn and walk back over toward the cars.

"What's wrong?" I ask, my stomach in my throat. The look in his eyes makes me feel sick.

"Do you feel anyone?" he asks me, and I know immediately why he's asking. I should be able to feel Alec, and find him that way. Relief courses through my veins. Thank god.

I stretch out as far as I can, encompass the whole underground and aboveground system of Volterra. There are some humans, in the residential area of the city, separate from the Volturi's control. I stretch further. My brow creases, my temples pound.

I let it drop and meet Felix's gaze. I don't need to say it; he knows immediately and pulls me into his arms. "_There's still hope_," he presses, his breath quick and anxious in my ear. "Don't give up yet."

"I'm not giving up."

Jasper and I do as he suggested, heading down a steep set of stone stairs into what probably was once an elegant hallway, but now certainly isn't. We walk down a mostly straight pathway until another path appears to branch off—I shrug at Jasper, and gesture towards the new pathway. "I'll head that way," I say. "I'll shout if I need you."

He brushes a kiss to the top of my head and nods. "Okay, Ness. Please do."

I nod stiffly and force a smile. I follow the curve of the wall, and it leads me down another staircase. The air is dry and dusty down here, and fills my nose with the leftover smell of smoke.

I almost don't notice him. But as I'm walking around another pile of debris, it hits me. I feel his mind. It's so faint, but I would recognize him anywhere. _Alec. _

"FELIX!" I shout. Mere moments later, our entire little group is surrounding me.

"Are you alright?"

"Did you hurt yourself?"

"Is the smoke—?"

"_I feel him!" _I exclaim, looking at Felix. Comprehension dawns immediately.

"Where?" He almost trips over the word. "Where is he?"

I clench my teeth and concentrate. Really concentrate. But it's too faint for me to pinpoint, and it's growing fainter. I shake my head slowly, pressing my fingers to my temples. "I can't—it's too weak. His mind is too weak." I turn to Jasper. My heart is racing. "Now would be a good time to call Grandpa."

"Edward—" he starts.

I wave it away. "Dad can ground me all he wants. I really don't care."

He nods, whipping out his phone. I look over his shoulder—no service. I look at Jake. "Will you?"

His hands are in fists, but he nods. He doesn't want to be here when we find him. As he walks by, he ruffles my hair. It's forced, but it's familiar. When we were close, when he was like my brother, he did that all the time. It drove me crazy. But now, I appreciate it. It tells me that he's trying his hardest not to hate me.

"Okay," I say, and clear my throat. "Everybody split up. He has to be in this area." I gesture around us. "Maybe right above, maybe right below. But close. That much I'm sure of."

Everyone nods, and Jasper squeezes my shoulder. His eyes are bright. "Good job, Ness," he says to me. Emmett wraps his arm around my waist briefly. Felix is smiling.

"Go, go, go!" I exclaim.

We all start digging. D0wn here, most of the walls have collapsed, and parts of the ceiling too. I'm surprised the whole building hasn't gone down. I stay in the same area, and everyone else heads above, below and just in front of this room. It's almost too dark for me to see, but I hope that if I get close enough, I'll feel his mind more strongly.

As I push through another area of collapsed marble, I almost stumble through a massive gap in the floor. I don't know how I know, but I'm certain—he's down there.

I call to Emmett, who went underneath, and he appears just below.

"You found him?"

"No, no," I say. "Catch me?"

"You're sure he's not up there?"

I raise my eyebrows. "Yes, I'm sure."

Emmett shrugs and holds out his arms. I jump. His arm is hard against my spine, and I know I'll have a serious bruise tomorrow, but I ignore the sting of pain as I stand up.

It's stronger.

"He's definitely here," I breathe. "Keep looking."

It takes a few minutes, but when I finally see him, I stare in shock a moment before dropping to my knees. It's his leg, sticking out from under a fallen chunk of marble and a tall wooden beam as wide as I am.

"_Uncle Emmett!" _I shout.

He's at my side in a second. "Stand back, Ness," he says, immediately heading for the beam. I ignore him and crouch down, putting my hand on Alec's ankle.

It's _warm. _I jerk my hand away. "Oh my god. Uncle Emmett, please hurry up. Please."

Jasper suddenly appears behind me, followed by Felix, who freezes in place at the sight of his cousin and closest friend. Jasper grabs me by the waist, pulling me back from Alec and the tedious pile of debris covering him.

"Uncle Jasper!" I shout, trying to escape his grip. "Something's wrong with him. I need to—"

"You need to back away," he interrupts. He points toward the ceiling, and I follow his finger. There's a massive crack leading from one end to another, and the beam seems to be propping the ceiling up. If they move it, even a bit, the whole room will collapse.

I suck in a sharp breath. "I can't leave him under there, Uncle Jasper!" I cry. "I won't leave. I won't. He made me leave before, and none of this would have happened if I'd stood my ground."

Jasper's jaw drops. "Sweetheart, if you'd stayed with him you would be . . ." He gestures around the room.

I clench my teeth. "_He _was supposed to stay with _me._"

"Renesmee—"

"Uncle Jasper, I'm not leaving."

He shuts his eyes briefly. "Fine. Stand behind me." I do, and Jasper stands tense and ready to help Emmett if needed. "Emmett, try to move those pieces of marble first. Maybe we can get him out without having to move the beam."

Emmett does, slowly. Felix hasn't moved an inch, his eyes wide and mouth open with shock. Emmett starts as far away from the beam as he can, and gradually makes his way closer, but eventually the beam is in his way. "Ness, you need to leave," Emmett says now. "The beam has to move, and that means the ceiling's coming down."

"What?" I exclaim. "Are you crazy? It's going to come down on both of you—"

"Renesmee, I'll be fine no matter what. It's your guy here that I'm worried about. If he's in such awful shape, I don't think he's going to last much longer—especially not under all of this crap. The ceiling's going to come down, Ness, but I'm going to get him out."

My head spins and I put my hands on my knees. "Where's Carlisle?" I gasp. I straighten, but my breathing is uneven. "We're not doing anything until he gets here. Alec is . . . Alec is . . ." I inhale deeply. "I can't lose him again. I just can't."

As if conjured, Jacob appears behind me. "They're on their way."

Felix finally springs into action. He turns to Jacob and lets out a huge breath. "They're coming. Thank god. How far away did they say they were?"

"They'll be here in a few minutes. Edward is pissed, but he'll get over it."

"Pissed?" Emmett repeats, dusting off his hands on his jeans. "At who, exactly?"

"Well, me," Jacob admits. "And the three of you."

I've been holding my breath without realizing it, and my hands are shaking. "We need to get him out, then. Now. Carlisle will be here by the time you're done."

Emmett nods somberly. "Get out of here, kids," he says to Jacob and me before turning to Jasper. "We're going to need to do this quick. You're going to grab him, alright? I'll move the beam, and you'll pull him out. Felix, man, stand next to me, yeah? Hold this piece of marble so it doesn't crush the poor guy."

Jasper looks at me. "Ness, leave. Now."

My eyes dart to Alec, to what I can see of him—his jean-covered leg, his sneakered foot. His sweltering hot ankle. I love him. He needs to be okay. His mind is still there—faint, but there. He's still alive.

I nod. "Okay. Okay." Jacob takes my arm and begins to pull me away.

"We'll be at the car," Jacob says. "Bring him there."

"Leave!" Jasper shouts. Emmett's starting to reach for the beam, his hands mere inches away. They're waiting for us.

Jacob scoops me into his arms and soon, we're outside. I gasp for air before emptying the contents of my stomach, and then proceed to collapse onto the icy sidewalk. I can see my breath in the air. Jacob stands and watches me, not reaching out, not touching me, just looking. He feels bad for me. I can see that in his eyes. I can also see how much he loves me, and I know he's not trying to hide it.

And then I hear the crash from inside, and I know the ceiling has come down.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for being so slow again! This is the second to last chapter. Just one more, and then the sequel is coming. Name TBD, so if you have any ideas feel free to review with one! Chapter 24 - the final chapter of Child in Red - will be up tomorrow or the day after. Thanks for sticking with me!<strong>


	24. Chapter 24

**I know I said this would be the last chapter, but there'll actually be one or two more. I've been getting quite a few PMs and reviews begging for updates, and I'm so sorry I haven't been responding! I had this chapter written and I thought that I'd already posted, but I guess I hadn't! I'm so sorry! Next chapter should be up VERY SOON, and this time I'm serious. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty Four<strong>

Carlisle appears just moments later, everyone else trailing behind. I see some faces I wasn't expecting as well; the Romanians and the Amazons.

Carlisle looks anxious, his eyes bright and worried. He likes Alec, I think. He'll take care of him. "Grandpa!" I cry, my arms wrapped around my knees. I feel incredibly small and useless.

"Where is he?" Carlisle asks, panicked.

"Emmett and Jasper are down there," Jacob answers for me. He gestures inside the once-spacious and now-collapsed lobby of the Volturi's main building. "And Felix. The ceiling's coming down, and we couldn't have Ness in there."

Carlisle kneels down and puts his hands on my knees. "Baby girl, we're going to save him, okay? He's going to be fine. I pr—"

"Don't promise me anything," I interrupt, and my voice is shaky. I clear my throat. "Please don't promise me anything, Grandpa. You didn't . . . you didn't _see _him. I could hardly feel his mind when I was next to him—I can't feel him at all now. And his skin. Oh, his skin was _warm_, Grandpa. He was burning up." I promptly burst into tears. My dad crouches down next to me, too, and my mom watches from just behind him. He reaches for my hand, but I pull away.

"You don't care about him," I whisper. "You don't care at all. If you'd let me come sooner . . . if you'd cared at _all_ . . . he wouldn't be so hurt right now."

Mom lets out a sharp breath. "Renesmee—"

"No, Mom, don't. You thought Dad was going to kill himself, and you flew halfway across the world to save him. You should have understood. I was _one hour away. _One hour away, and you wouldn't even let me come. _You_, of all people, should have understood." I stand up and point a shaking finger at my parents. "Both of you should have understood. I can't believe—if either of you was—it's not even—"

I turn away just in time to vomit. My eyes water and my throat burns. And then I hear the shouting—Emmett and Jasper and Felix, yelling for Carlisle, screaming for Carlisle. I'm on my feet in seconds, wiping my mouth on my sleeve and sprinting towards the entrance on shaky feet, Carlisle just in front of me. Emmett is the first I see, a cloud of smoke trailing behind him—and a misshapen shape, slumped and dust covered but _solid, _in his arms_. Whole. Alive. _

And then he's handing Alec to Grandpa, and I almost throw up again. His skin is mottled and burned and _bleeding_, oozing with so many fluids that just shouldn't be there and it doesn't make sense. He's completely still, no breath coming from his lips, no twitch in his fingers, nothing. He could be dead. But I can still feel his mind, his presence, and I call out to him as strongly as I can. _Alec, _I cry, _please hold on. Al, please, for me. _ But no matter how loud, there's no response.

Carlisle rushes to bring Alec to the car Emmett drove us here in, a rented Hummer. He sets him down gently on the spacious back seat, and pushes the two front seats as far up as they'll go. I climb in behind him, absolutely horrified but needing to be by him. The smell is terrible, like my calf.

"I don't understand," Carlisle says, and my heart stops.

"_You don't understand?_" I exclaim. "Grandpa, you need—"

Carlisle shushes me and crouches next to Alec, running his fingers along his neck and his wrist. He gasps.

"Grandpa?" I whisper, worry clenching my stomach like a fist.

"There's a pulse," he says.

Everyone freezes. My parents, Jacob, Felix, the Amazons, the Romanians. Uncle Emmett, Aunt Rose, Aunt Alice, Uncle Jasper.

"A pulse?" my dad repeats. "That's not possible, Carlisle."

Carlisle presses harder against Alec's pulse points and I can't help but pull his arm back. "You're right. It's not."

And then it hits me. I look out of the car at Felix, and he seems to be coming to the same conclusion. "The vervain," he says.

Carlisle's eyes widen. "Vervain?" he repeats. "I haven't heard that word in a century—what has that got to do with it?"

I look at my grandfather. "They gave us vervain. Both of us. It affected him a lot more than me—I was out for a few hours, and I was fine. He was out for a few hours, and he felt terrible. I figured it would pass, like it'd passed for me—"

"That's it," Carlisle says. "Aro had told me the rumors he'd heard, ranging from almost reasonable to entirely unrealistic. This was one of the most outstanding." Everyone's listening now, and Carlisle clears his throat. "The concept was that it overwhelmed vampiric qualities, diminished any—"

I push past him, and he's so startled he stops talking. I gently reach for Alec and raise his eyelids. _His eyes are gray. _Carlisle looks over my shoulder.

"Impossible," he whispers.

"So, essentially," Dad says, "he's human. In this moment."

Carlisle shakes his head no, lifting the corner of Alec's lips. His canines still look sharp as ever. "This is the most incredible thing, Edward. I can't begin to explain how outrageous this is. His heart is beating, and he's seriously injured. He has burns and broken bones, like a human would. His skin is warm—he's running a fever—and he has various infections. He's dangerously ill." Carlisle purses his lips. "He's like Ness," he adds.

"Carlisle," I say, my voice shaking. Everyone looks at me—I've never, not once, called my grandfather by his first name out loud. "You need to help him. We need to help him. _I can't lose him_. You can't make me lose him again."

Carlisle presses his lips together but nods, and begins to give orders to everyone. Bella, get in the car. Edward, drive. Everyone else, start running home. Prepare the medical supplies, and set up Renesmee's room for him.

I sit on the floor in front of the backseat, putting my hand on Alec's leg. His warmth shocks me again; it's so incredibly strange. Carlisle remains standing, even as we turn down winding cobble-stoned streets.

I put my forehead on my knees. "Grandpa?" I whisper.

"Mmm."

"The drive—the drive is long. Will he—?"

"He'll make it through the drive, sweetheart."

"Grandpa?" I say again. I don't wait for him to respond. "How will we know—if he goes, how will we know?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I just don't know."

"I can barely feel his mind," I admit. Mom and Dad and Emmett are listening, frozen. "I'm right next to him, but it's like he's not even there."

"When you awoke in the dungeon, could you feel his mind?"

"It was . . ." I pause. And think about it. "I could, but it was different. It was shut off. And not like he was shutting me out—like his mind was shutting down, almost. Why didn't I say something to him? If I had, he could be fine now. None of this would have happened."

"Ness," Grandpa starts. I look up at him. "If it had already started before, this still would have happened. No matter where he was."

"He would have been with you, though. You would have been there. It wouldn't be so bad now."

Grandpa's lips thin. After a moment, he says, "Let's not think about the _what if_'s, okay? Let's just focus on keeping this boy alive."

We make to the house in just under forty five minutes. My eyes never leave my sneakered feet; I can hardly stand to look at Alec without bursting into tears.

Carlisle scoops Alec into his arms and carries him, as gently as he can, into the house. I follow him up the stairs to my room, where the large bed has been replaced by one hospital-style cot and a smaller, twin-sized bed. There's a heart monitor set up, and a small table with all of Carlisle's medical supplies laid out. Carlisle carefully sets Alec on the hospital bed, and starts to hook him up to the various machines around him. He explains to me as he goes, hearing my hysterical breathing and seeing the tears running down my face.

"This is a pulse oximeter," Carlisle's saying now. He's putting a plastic-looking thing on Alec's finger, the kind that I always see on TV but never really thought much about. It sandwiches his entire index finger. "It's hooked up to the heart monitor, and that way we can monitor his heart beats." He's watching the screen, reading the numbers and calculating something in his head. "His heart's beating incredibly fast."

I bite my lip, holding back more tears. "How fast? Like me?"

"No, faster. Like he's going through the change." I let out a heavy breath and sink down onto the twin bed that's pushed against the side wall. "You might want to leave the room," he says. "I need to set his arm, and his knee looks dislocated. It's not going to be pretty."

I stand up and take Alec's uninjured hand. "No, I'm staying. I'm not leaving his side."

Carlisle nods, like he expected as much, and moves to the other side of the bed. "I'm going to give him some morphine. I'm not sure how much of this he's conscious of, but if his body is going through the transition for a second time, it could help. Like it helped your mother."

I force myself to look, really look, and assess the damage. His nose looks broken—he has twin bruises forming underneath his eyes, and the bridge of his nose is swollen. There's a sizeable gash cutting through his right eyebrow, but it looks like a flesh wound. Not too deep. His arms are covered by his sleeves, and Carlisle starts to cut the shirt off as I'm watching.

"I need to set up a drip," he says.

I don't respond, horrified by the sight unfolding before me. His chest looks concave, barely moving with each breath, littered with dark red and purple bruises. Carlisle even looks shocked.

"His ribs must be broken," he says, unnecessarily. I can see that myself.

"All of them?" I ask him.

"I'll have to do an x-ray. It's a miracle that it didn't puncture a lung. I need to set his arm and knee, first, though." As he's speaking, he slips a needle into the crook of Alec's arm and hooks him up to a morphine drip. "Hold his hand, sweetheart. Squeeze. This is going to hurt." I squeeze his hand in mine and my eyes shut. The sound is enough to make someone nauseous, the bones crunching and popping.

Carlisle lets out a deep sigh. "Now his knee."

I shut my eyes even tighter, but loosen my grip on his hand. I don't want to hurt him. This one is faster, although it sounds much worse, and I lean my forehead against the side of the bed. How did this happen? What am I missing?

The headaches. The dizziness. All of these things that I'd pushed aside are coming to the surface. "Grandpa?" I say, sitting up. "I think I know what happened." Carlisle is running his fingers along Alec's side, gingerly prodding the red and purple areas. Without waiting for him to respond, I add, "I think they've been giving him the vervain for a long time. A lot longer than just that one day in the dungeon."

Carlisle looks up at me, clearly interested. "What do you mean?"

"He was having these dizzy spells for a while. At least a month. Headaches. His mind would get all foggy, and I'd have to reach inside and clear it out. I don't know why I never thought more about it—he was constantly telling me it was nothing, so I guess I just started to believe it was."

Carlisle lifts back Alec's eyelids, waves a flashlight in front of them. "That definitely may be the cause." His eyes flick back to me. "I need to do the x-rays so I can make sure the ribs didn't puncture anything. But, Renesmee . . ."

I meet his gaze. "Yeah?"

"I don't think he'll be waking up anytime soon. Please be patient."

I swallow hard. I can be patient.

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><p><strong>One or two more chapters left. Anyone think they know what's going to happen? I hope it's a surprise, but I'd love to hear your thoughts. Also, don't forget to think of a sequel title to tag onto your review! If I pick your title, I'll give you a cameo in the sequel. :) Sorry about the late posting again! Also, don't forget to check out the lovely trailer to Child in Red that was made by one of my fabulous readers, Seph Meadowes: you tu be watch?v=3WC1xjBCYTk (Delete the spaces!)<strong>


	25. Chapter 25

**I'm sorry about the delay!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

Jasper's hand moves form my waist to my wrist, which he tugs gently. "Why don't we step out for a bit, Ness? I think a break could do you some good."

I hesitate. I've spent the past few weeks at Alec's bedside, alternating between napping and staring longingly at his prone figure, fitting a meal in here and there. "I don't really—"

"C'mon," another voice says from the doorway. Emmett. "Come down stairs with us, Remy bear." He raises his eyebrows. "I've been waiting for you to help me with the tree!"

_Christmas_, I let myself think. My favorite time of year.

"You know what?" I say, after a moment of Emmett and Jasper staring at me, hope lighting their faces. "I think Christmas is exactly what I need."

It turns out I'm right. After an hour and a half of decorating the massive tree in the living room, I'm starting to feel more like myself. Alice has Michael Buble's Christmas album playing full-blast, and Emmett belts out the lyrics along with her.

When we finally finish, everyone stops what they're doing to appraise the tree. Mom comes into the room with a tray of cookies and sets them on the coffee table before brushing a kiss on my cheek.

"I was starting forget what my own daughter looks like," she teases softly. "Merry-almost Christmas, sweetheart."

I return the sentiment. It's almost like the past ten months never happened. Nobody comments on how much weight I've lost, the pale tone of my skin. Nobody mentions Alec's name, or the Volturi. Emmett and Jacob force cookies into my mouth just to see how many will fit, and Alice surprises me with a new red dress for Christmas dinner, all the while wrinkling her nose at my t-shirt and sweatpants. Rose and Grandma can hardly stop playing with my hair and kissing my cheeks. The only people missing are Dad and Grandpa.

It's not until later that day, after the sun has set and the games have ended, that the illusion begins to crumble. Jasper is forcing Alice into an incredibly tacky Christmas sweater, an exact replica of his, and I'm sitting with Rose, her fingers making slow work of braiding my hair over and over. A warm plate of warm cookies rests on my lap, and when my dad and Grandpa finally materialize on the stairs, nearly falls to the ground.

"What's happened?" I cry.

Grandpa just shakes his head and gestures for me to follow him. "We need to have a word with you."

Everyone's eyes are on me as I slowly make my way to his side, my hair falling loose from the French braid Rose had just started. They lead me into a room-turned office just off the first landing, shutting the door behind me.

"Tell me," I beg, the words catching in my throat. Tears fill my eyes. "Whatever it is, tell me."

Grandpa runs a hand over his face. "Your father and I have been doing some research the past few weeks, trying to find out as much as we could about the herb." He pauses. "Reading legends, folklore, everything we could get our hands on."

"What did you find?" I whisper. Dad shifts uncomfortably. "Please."

Grandpa sighs. "Now, we're not certain, so don't take my word for it, alright? But what we've found—I think it's safe to say he's not going through the change again, Renesmee." He pauses. "What we think is happening—again, we're not certain—we think he's _reversing _it."

It takes a moment for the full impact of his words to reach me, and when it does my heart races and my knees go weak. I grip the back of the desk chair to stay standing.

"You don't mean . . ." I trail off, the words caught in my throat.

Grandpa nods. "I don't think there's much we can do differently, Renesmee. Nothing but waiting.

I shut my eyes. Alec is going to wake up human.

_Human. _

It starts slowly over the next two weeks. On Christmas day, I notice cracks in the fortress of Alec's mind, almost wide enough for me to slip the tips of my fingers through. A few days later, Carlisle makes a subtle comment about his heart beat becoming more regularized. I can see it in his eyes—this is a good thing. Soon, his body starts doing things that Carlisle calls "normal"; his eyelids flutter and his muscles bunch and clench. He responds to the cool touch of my father and grandfather with a spread of goose bumps, and his fingers twitch. His hair won't stop growing. Alice offers to trim his hair before I even get the chance to ask her, and she does it with quick fingers and steady hands.

Carlisle warns me that he may wake up angry and disoriented, that we can't begin to predict how he'll behave when he awakes. Again, he reminds me to be patient. It's harder than I thought.

I can't wait for him to wake up.

As much as he's beginning to change into a different person than he was before, I love that I'm learning things about this other part of him, this human side. It turns out his skin is a bit more olive than white, that his dark brown hair turns dark gold in the sunlight through the window. His eyes flutter as he dreams. He has a birthmark in the curve of his elbow I somehow never once noticed, and freckles are appearing on his hairline behind his ear.

When he finally does wake up, it takes us by surprise. I'm in my bed reading a book, and Carlisle is sitting by my side in a creaky wooden chair, reading a medical journal. His voice startles us both—especially when he's not speaking English. Carlisle responds quicker than I do, standing up, muttering things under his breath. He holds Alec down tightly by the shoulder.

Alec looks groggy, his eyes open and so very _gray, _his cheeks flushed with anxiety and his hands clenched tightly in fists.

"Grandpa!" I exclaim, scrambling to his side. "He's just confused! You don't have to _restrain_ him!" I put my hand on top of my grandpa's, and speak to Alec. "Al, he's going to let you go," I murmur. "Everything's okay. We're going to take care of you." My heart is beating quickly in my chest, and my stomach has sunk to the soles of my feet. _He's awake. _

But Alec just stares at me, confusion even more apparent in his expression. He mutters something again in that strange language, almost German but not exactly. He looks at me with wide and suspicious eyes.

Dad and Jasper burs into the room at the commotion, even as quiet as it had been, Jacob trailing behind. My dad stares at me a moment. "Renesmee, I need you to step out with Jake right now."

Jake grabs me before I can even open my mouth to respond and pulls me out into the hall.

I stare at him, mouth agape, and try to pull my wrists from his grasp. "I don't understand—he's just confused! Let me go! He's not going to _hurt _me!" I strain against his hold.

Jake tightens his grip and clenches his jaw. "Just wait for your dad, Ness."

After a few more futile moments of struggle, I resolve to stand in silence while glaring at the shut bedroom door before me. It's at least five minutes more minutes before my dad comes out into the hall, shutting the door firmly behind him.

"What's going on? Is he okay?" I finally wrench my hands from Jake's grasp, and try to get around my dad. He grips my shoulders.

"Ness," he begins.

"Is he _okay_?" I press.

"He is," a pause, "physically alright."

I stare at him blankly. "Let me go into the room, Dad."

My dad shakes his head slowly, as if to clear it. "Carlisle sedated him."

A noise leaves my mouth, between a protest and a groan. "Dad, let me by!'

He hesitates to respond, and meets Jacob's gaze over my shoulder. The air feels thick around me, and my heart stops in my chest. Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong.

"Renesmee," my dad begins. He pauses again. "Ness," he begins again.

His next words nearly send me toppling to the floor.

"Renesmee, I'm so sorry. He . . . he doesn't remember you."

And that is when my world fell apart.

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><p><strong>Don't hate me! I know it took a while for me to post this chapter, but it's been the plan since the beginning. I've decided not to make a sequel. Instead, I'll continue posting here. There doesn't seem much point to making it a sequel! Also, I'm vowing to be more punctual!<strong>

**Much love,**

**Leah**


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